The Return of Matt Houston
by jang27
Summary: A crossover story which started as "Apart" on the fan fiction page for Matt Houston.
1. Chapter 1

**The Return of Matt Houston - 1/**** Apart - 4**

The dust kicked up as the car traversed the long driveway leading to the house. The man stopped his horse a moment to stare while wondering who would drive all the way out to the ranch so early in the morning. His address was unpublished. His home was far removed from the rest of the world. There were very few people who knew where he lived. He was off the grid. Even ol' Baby didn't know where he lived.

Curious, he set the horse in motion and went to meet the driver. As he neared, he noticed a woman behind the wheel: thirty-ish, shoulder length blonde hair, slim in stature, she stopped the car and climbed out upon seeing him.

"Mr. Houston?"

It had been a long search for this detective, thousands of miles from her base of operation. She was no stranger to challenges, but for most of her trip, she felt like she picked the short straw. Investigating rapes and child endangerment cases were much more her cup of tea than traveling across country in search of a man no one had seen in years. Some even theorized he was mythical.

He scowled.

"Who wants to know?"

She suppressed a grin, triumphing internally that she accomplished the first of her goals: finding the legendary detective Matt Houston. "Amanda Rollins. I'm a detective from New York," she said flashing her badge.

He couldn't make out the badge from his vantage point but already knew he didn't want to talk to her.

"I don't talk to detectives. Especially ones from New York, " he said as he turned his horse and galloped away.

Amanda wasn't about to give up and jumped back into her car, pressing hard on the accelerator, cutting across the field to race up beside him, then in front of him. She slammed on the brakes, the horse reared and Matt nearly fell off.

"Whoa!"

Dismounting, he marched right up to her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Seeing the his size and intensity, she could've been scared or at least intimidated, but she had faced far more frightening people than Matt Houston in her line of work. She opened her car door and climbed out.

"Mr. Houston…"

"You know you could have killed me back there!"

She stood with her arms folded and stared at him.

"From what I understand about you, you're practically indestructible. Haven't you escaped death at least a dozen times? That's more lives than a cat has."

He arched an eyebrow, wondering how she knew all that.

"What do you want?"

She softened a bit, offering a polite smile.

"It's not for me … actually, it's …"

She had his attention now, and noticed his penetrating brown eyes despite his rather rotund and disheveled appearance. He probably was quite handsome back in the day.

"What is it?"

"Ya see, my coworkers and I were doing some research on you and a C.J. Parsons …"

He cut her off. "C.J.?"

She could tell by his expression that this C.J. must mean something to him.

"Yes. You and Ms. Parsons used to work together … as private investigators."

"Do you know where she is? Is she alive?"

The double-barreled question threw her off-guard. This trip wasn't about his former partner - it was about a client who they passionately believed was handed a raw deal in life. But there was an obvious excitement in his voice. His whole demeanor had changed with the utterance of those two simple letters.

"I … I don't know. I just know from my research that you both worked on a case that might have ties to something that happened in New York recently; a case you solved back in 1984. "

Oh is that all she wanted. He sighed, a bit disappointed but intrigued enough to entertain her question. She did come all the way from New York, after all.

"Which one?"

"Does a case about Judge Nicholas Whitewood ring a bell?"

"Saint Nick?" he said, scratching his head.

"Yes. Do you remember much about it? See, there's this woman who says Whitewood molested her when she was younger and murdered her older sister, but we can't find any confirmation to her story. She wants to press charges now that he's out on parole. There's word he's bought his way out of prison, if you know what I mean. She mentioned your name, said you would know all about him. Any information, any information at all, would really help us out."

He walked a few feet away, looking at his footsteps as he thought.

"A woman … Butterfly?"

Amanda didn't know the name.

"No, that's not her name… at least not anymore."

"If I had some files in front of me or still had my computer…"

"So does mean you'll do it? Will you us help out?" she asked excitedly.

His mind flashed back to that case ... and C.J. and how they worked on it together. Even though that case lost them Butterfly's older sister Marsha – their client, it brought back fond memories.

"I don't know. I'm retired. I haven't worked on any cases since I lost my partner thirty years ago."

Feeling slightly defeated, Amanda's heart sunk for a second before she regrouped with another idea.

"Your partner… this C.J. Parsons … the one you've spent much of your life and your money looking for because you never believed she died?"

If her intention was to catch him off-guard, she succeeded. How the hell did she know what she did? Losing his best friend C.J. had, indeed, sent him backwards. He had given up the only life style he had ever known, the one routine in his life that gave him purpose. He had given up investigating cases to spend 100% of his free time and money searching for her, never believing she died thirty years ago. His obsession with finding her had driven most of his friends away.

"Yes, that's the one," he said with a somber look in his eyes. "Why?"

"I'm sorry," she offered, realizing she hit a sensitive area. Losing a partner in the crime-solving business was devastating – as her boss Olivia Benson once told her. "It's just that my boss, well she's really passionate about helping this woman and from what we know about you, you're the best person for the job."

He reached for the stirrup with his foot and hoisted himself onto the horse. No, he couldn't work without C.J. by his side. It was just too painful.

"Well, I'm sorry, Ms. Rollins. I'm retired. Investigating just ain't my game anymore."

And with that, he took off, galloping away.

Amanda drew in a sigh, feeling defeated, But wait, no. She didn't fly three thousand miles to leave empty-handed! She climbed back in her car and pressed on the gas.

He saw her approaching from the corner of his eye and ordered his horse to go faster. She tore up the sod, speeding along the grass, trying to catch him. He was nearing the woods so she knew she only had moments.

She pulled up in front of him, slammed on the brakes, stopped the car and climbed out again, unaware he was admiring her spunk. She reminded him of himself when he was ever so much younger.

"Mr. Houston, wait! Please! There's something else."

He rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I know people… people who can help you find what happened to your former business partner. If you help us, we'll help you."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Return of Matt Houston - 2/ Apart - 5**

He looked back at her, half impressed half doubtful. Did this police detective have the resources to find someone he had been searching for thirty years? Could he possibly embark on yet another far-fetched idea, getting his hopes up with someone he just met minutes ago?

"You can really help me?"

She shrugged. "I'd like to try. What do you have to lose?"

Oh, nothing except his sanity and the fragile place he landed after years of going through the stages of mourning. And there's also the remainder of his family and friends that didn't dessert him over the course of the past thirty years that would surely roll their eyes when he told them he was embarking on yet another search for C.J. Not to mention his health, teetering on the verge of old age with a body that endured years of abuse. That's all.

She presented two airline tickets from her pocket.

"I have two tickets for a flight that leaves in three hours."

Whoa! She wasn't giving him much time … or much of a choice. She almost sounded like a certain someone who never took no for an answer ever so long ago.

"Three hours?"

"Uh huh."

"Well you certainly don't give an old detective a lot of time."

"Our society can't afford to let a man such as Whitewood roam free for even a second."

Oh, he couldn't argue with her there! But wasn't there a good chance Whitewood would find a way to beat the system … again?

"And you really think you can help me find out what happened to my C.J.?" he asked again.

She could have lost her patience at this point, but instead she kept her opinion in check.

"Once we nail Whitewood, I promise to help you in any way I can."

Her words were sincere as she said this and something inside him – something deep that he used to make decisions in the past was urging him on. There was also that twinkle in her eye that a man like him couldn't resist.

"You drive a hard bargain, lady."

Her eyes lit with enthusiasm.

"Does that mean you'll do it? You'll come to New York and help us out?"

He paused for a moment before giving a firm answer.

"At the risk of having my cousin commit me to an asylum, yeah, I'll do it. Give me an hour to get cleaned up and arrange for someone to care for my horses while I'm gone."

She hid her obvious excitement and nodded, flashing a smile with a tilt of her head.

"Great. Thank you."

"Meet me up at the house," he said just before ordering his horse to giddy-up.

* * *

She entered the foyer of the mansion, walking towards the entrance to the living room. She stopped to admire the large room which could have seemed informal but instead was welcoming and comfortable. Maybe it was a reflection of its owner.

"Have a seat. I'll be only be a few moments."

She nodded and her eyes went directly to the mantle, noticing several photos that she figured were family.

"Are these your kids?" she called out.

He answered from across the hall - from a room he devoted to_ her_ search.

"No, no kids of my own. They're my cousin's kids, well they're actually grown now. I call them my nephews and nieces. Joe, that's the oldest one, is the one I'm gonna call right now."

She heard him dial the phone and her eyes wandered around the room where she spied several pictures arranged in a grouping on a table that almost resembled a shrine. The largest one, an 8 ½ by 11 inch ornate wood frame, housed a photo of a very striking and good looking woman.

He came back into the room.

"My nephew said he'll do it so I …"

He stopped, noticing the way she was staring at the photo.

"Is this your former partner?" she asked.

He moved in a little closer to admire the photo.

"Yeah. That's my C.J. ... or rather was."

His eyes started to show emotion but he quickly shook it off, like a baseball player after being hit in the shoulder by a fastball. After all these years he knew how to mask his pain.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, leaving her to admire the rest of the photos.

In a variety of different frames and sizes, there was one of C.J. and Matt as children, one from a magazine labeling her "Woman of the Year in Business 1983," and one of her in business attire standing next to him, smiling. They were quite striking together, Amanda noted. But she felt drawn to the first picture, a picture that seemed to have been taken when C.J. was in her twenties. He hair was long, resting just past her shoulders. She wore an off the shoulder sundress displaying her warm skin tone, her green eyes that seemed to say I'm confident yet vulnerable, I'm not just a pretty face you think you know. It was almost as if a halo formed around her bounteous brunette locks. No wonder he was obsessed over her for so long.

Amanda didn't even realize how long she had been staring at the photos. All of sudden Matt appeared with an overnight bag in tow, a change of clothes, and fresh-shaven.

"Somedays I could just stare at the photo all day."

She almost jumped, placed a hand to her chest and set the picture down.

"I'm sorry. I… I didn't mean to stare. It's just that... well, she's beautiful."

He relaxed with a slight smile.

"She was beautiful inside, too."

* * *

He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. So many memories he had almost forgotten about were drifting back to him without invitation. With the long plane ride and the poor excuse for on-flight entertainment, he couldn't shake them.

Detective Rollins was the first person in years to mention C.J.'s name. Oh he never went a day without thinking about her but to hear someone verbalize her name sent emotions swirling inside him he thought he had long dealt with.

That day his uncle, cousin and Hoyt told him the news was about the worst day of his life. He didn't sleep that night. By four a.m. he headed into the office and began furiously searching Baby for evidence. No, his instincts told him. She wasn't dead and he was going to prove it. If it was the last thing he'd ever do, he'd prove she was alive!

One day of searching Baby turned into weeks, months, years. He never, ever, gave up, traveling to the East Coast to search for her missing plane himself. When he couldn't convince the Coast Guard to keep searching, he hired private people, costing millions of his own personal dollars. When the first crew he hired came up empty, he hired another crew, then another. This went on for years. Searching every possible avenue, checking video surveillance and interviewing eyewitness accounts. He didn't even come off the hopeless trail when his uncle fell ill, leaving his cousin Will to the bear the brunt of it alone. By the time Matt returned home, Roy was dead, buried and memorialized.

It caused a riff between him and Will, culminating in a scene at the office one day. Will had enough with his crazy cousin and sent his fist into his jaw so hard it broke several of Matt's teeth. He laid there, staring up at his cousin, seeing a side of him he hadn't seen before. Will called him a few names, mostly R rated, and hit him with the cold, hard truth that he needed to stop the nonsense of searching for a woman his mistreated for years. Even if he found C.J. alive, Will argued, she didn't deserve a cad like him.

Matt took his words to heart and vacated his office, heading directly to the ranch. He didn't know where else to go. It ended up being the place he would spend the majority of his time from then on. Private investigating had taken its toll on his personal life. Every single solitary woman he had cared about was gone because of his career. It was time to quit, check-out, escape from the world.

"So this boss of yours, you say she's fairly passionate about her job?"

His question broke through her concentration as she sifted through the old files he managed to supply her with.

"We are all at SVU," Amanda noted reflectively.

"I bet it's taken a toll on your personal lives, eh? Any of you married?"

She had to think about it a moment. "No, come to think of it, none of us are… at least at the moment."

"If I had to do it all over again, I'd have stayed a businessman. None of it was worth losing the people I cared about."

Amanda paused for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Well, I guess it's the price one plays for helping others."

"I guess. By the way, could you go over the details again of this woman you said was raped by Whitewood? When did it happen?"

"She said it happened when she was 14, before you rescued her from Whitewood."

"It had to have been Butterfly."

"It took her years to deal with it and she figured he was in jail all that time for murder he'd never be set free. Then at his parole hearing, she was on vacation in Mexico and was detained getting back on time. Since no one showed up to protest his parole, he was released the next day."

Matt shook his head.

"Scum."

"His picture's in the dictionary next to the word. But having you in New York, along with these old files, well … ought to get him put away for life this time."

Matt sighed internally, hoping he'd be able to help an old friend, and maybe ... just maybe, get some answers to the _one_ friend he never got over losing.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Return of Matt Houston - 3/Apart – 6**

He only had to take one look at the distraught woman sitting in Sgt. Benson's office to know it was Butterfly. It took Butterfly a few seconds longer. Matt didn't look like the same dashing detective she knew thirty years ago.

"Butterfly?"

Startled at first, she swung around and stared at this man who just burst into the office. No one had called her that name in years. It had to be someone who knew her before she changed it ... someone who knew her before she turned 18. She searched her memory while studying his size, his face, and his eyes.

"Do you remember me?" asked the mature man with a noticeable spark in his eyes.

"Mr. Houston?" she asked upon recognizing his voice.

He nodded and flashed a smile that was much more familiar to her.

"Houston!" she exclaimed with an appreciable change in mood. She jumped out of the chair and rushed to embrace him.

He wrapped his arms around her, his large body practically swallowing up the petite woman now in her mid forties. With thick short, dark hair and a few character lines, she wore the face of a woman who had been through an ordeal or two in her life. Her smile radiated past all her superficial flaws though.

He released and set his hands on her shoulders. "Gosh, would you look at you! If I had run into you on the street, I wouldn't have known you!"

"I could say same about you," she admitted humorously, her eyes angling towards his spare tire region as he embarrassingly sucked his gut in. "And it's not Butterfly any more. It's Marla. Marla Richmond."

"Okay Marla. What's this business about St. Nick?"

"First things first. Mr. Houston…" Sgt. Benson interrupted.

Taken aback at first, Matt stared at this woman... this attractive woman with dark, captivating eyes that were both confident and vulnerable. He instinctively glanced at her hand for signs of a ring and saw none. It was a reaction this confirmed bachelor had done out of reflex, without thinking. He internally chastised himself for doing so but then went right back to sizing her up, wondering if she might qualify as dating material. Oh, but wait. Stop. That's not why he was here ... and besides, she was a cop. He doesn't like cops.

Amanda edged alongside of him to administer the proper introductions.

"Matt Houston, this is Sgt. Olivia Benson."

Olivia extended her hand and as his eyes met hers.

"Thank you for coming all this way to help us out."

"Well I hope I actually can be of some help. I have to warn you, though. I haven't worked on a case in decades."

Amanda proudly held up a file in her hands and gave it to Olivia.

"We at least have some information to corroborate what happened to Marla in 1983."

"Okay, well that's a start," she said as she started perusing the file.

"But with the statute of limitations and all the corrupt people Whitewood had wrapped around his finger, well…"

"Let's not look for limitations. How about you bring me up to speed on what evidence you do have," Matt instructed.

Amanda stood in the doorway and summoned the rest of the team.

"Fin… Nick…"

Matt walked towards them as they introduced themselves. Olivia took Amanda aside and quietly said,

"I'm impressed. You actually found him and brought him back to New York."

"It wasn't easy. I kind of had to make a deal with him."

"A deal? What kind of a deal?"

Amanda braced for Olivia's reaction.

"I sort of promised him that we'd help him find out once and for all what happened to his former partner, the one whose death he ended his career for."

Olivia dropped her shoulders with a condescending tilt of the head.

"Since when are we in the missing person business? How can we help?"

Amanda shrugged. "We found him, didn't we? I figure either way it'll be good for him. If she's dead, we can help him get closure. If she's alive, we might be able to reunite them."

Olivia set her jaw while Amanda continued to plead her case.

"You should have seen the expression on his face when I first mentioned her name. There's a lot of strong emotions there. And you should see his home. He has this room with a table and all these pictures of her on it - almost like a shrine."

Olivia rolled her eyes and slapped the file onto her desk. "But that doesn't mean we'll be able to help him. It could end up being a setback for him ... and then how will that help us?"

Amanda folded her arms and boldly stared at her boss.

"I thought you would understand, given what happened between you and _your_ former partner."

Speechless, Olivia returned the stare.

"You never had closure, right? Isn't that what you always said, that if you had to chance to say goodbye and come to terms with change you would have faired better in the long run?"

Amanda had her there.

"Working relationships are a unique bond, right? Especially good working relationships. Besides, from what I know about him, he's a great detective. He's bound to help us out. Maybe that in itself will help him."

Olivia could have been miffed at her colleague and given her a lecture about crossing professional territorial lines, but a smile crept onto her face, turning the right corner of her lip upwards.

"Well, I see it didn't take you too long to jump on the Matt Houston bandwagon."

Amanda blushed for a second, then shot right back.

"When you spend seven hours on a plane with someone, you get to know them real well. I think he's a good guy, Liv. Just needs to fine some inner peace."

* * *

"You said you know this creep?" asked Fin.

"Unfortunately," Matt answered. "Years ago, my partner and I connected him to a pimp ring. He took homeless teenagers and groomed them for rich Johns. The younger the better. He murdered Butterfly's, I mean Marla's, older sister after kidnapping Marla when she was only 14. That's when he must have raped her … to break her in. We set him up in order to catch him red-handed. They extradited him to Rikers 'cause he knew too many people in the legal system in California. My guess he's been doing everything behind bars for years and probably bribed a judge to schedule his hearing at the same exact time that Marla was out of the country on vacation."

Amaro heard his desk phone ringing and went to answer it.

"Excuse me a second. Detective Amaro," he answered. "Sgt. Benson? Yeah, hold on."

He walked over to Olivia's office and poked his head in the door.

"Liv, there's a call for you."

"Who is it?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. They said they wanted to speak to only you."

"They? Well, is it a woman or a man?"

"Couldn't tell."

Curious, Olivia decided to take the call.

"Okay, I'll take it in here."

Amanda joined Fin and Amaro as they continued discussing the case with the legendary detective, but Matt's attention went to Olivia. Between her telling face and his lip reading skills, his curiosity was up when she glanced at him and then conveniently turned away with the phone pressed tightly to her face. His old investigator instinct was telling him he'd better check her out a little more closely.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Return of Matt Houston - 4/ Apart - 7**

As soon as Olivia left the office, Matt took his cue and came up with an excuse to leave as well.

"Ah, Marla, you had dinner yet?" he said upon poking his head in the door.

She gathered herself and offered him a smile.

"No."

"So how about dinner with an old man."

"Are you buying?"

He nodded.

"Let's go."

He didn't let on he suspected Sgt. Benson was hiding something and he certainly didn't let on that his choice of restaurant was due to the fact that he was following her. He wasn't exactly using Marla. He just had an uncanny inkling - that old investigator instinct - telling him to check something out and Marla was at hand. It would also give him a good chance to catch up with her.

Matt gazed at the ancient Italian artifacts that adorned the venue's walls. Every nook and cranny seemed to be stuffed with culture. He liked that. He couldn't help but think his former partner probably would have enjoyed dining at a such a restaurant too. She liked Italian and she liked culture. It was a bad habit of his - thinking of C.J. and what it would be like to still have her in his life. He always had to make a conscious effort to _not_ think of her.

"So, when did you change your name from Butterfly to Marla?" he asked, while keeping tabs on the good sergeant. She was there alright - glancing periodically between her watch, her cell phone, and the menu.

"When I was 18. I didn't think a name like Butterfly would fly in the collegiate world, so I changed it to a name similar to Marsha."

Matt did his best to sneak an unsuspicious glance over the top of his menu while he continued conversing.

"College? That's great. Your sister would have been very proud. What was your major?"

"Clinical psychology."

"Hmm," he said taking a sip of water, obviously impressed.

"And after years of working for other agencies and hospitals, I finally have my own practice."

"Hmm. Nice. Married? Kids?"

She answered but Matt was distracted as Olivia was greeted by a tall slim figure. The figure slipped into the booth quickly with his back turned towards Matt, so he couldn't tell who he was. He studied Olivia's body language, her gestures, trying to ascertain if the meeting was business or personal. He simply couldn't tell.

It wasn't until the end of the meal when the figure stood up that he realized it was a woman.

Olivia extended her hand as they stood. "Thank you, Susan. I'll be in touch."

Susan and Olivia left the restaurant, heading in opposite directions. Matt decided to make his appearance known to the police officer that had so captured his attention.

Olivia spotted him coming her way and gave him a curious look.

"Mr. Houston ..."

"Detective Benson…"

"Were you following me?"

He skirted the issue by stalling a reply.

"No... I was hungry and, uh, last I heard, it's a free country."

She placed a hand on her hip and glared at him.

Meanwhile, behind him, Susan backtracked into the restaurant looking for her keys ... and ran right into Marla.

Marla stopped and stared at her, feeling a familiarity in the woman's eyes.

But Susan looked away, saying, "Excuse me."

Her speaking voice set off a few bells.

"Wait a minute," Marla said glancing between her and where Matt exited. "Ms. Parsons?" she dared.

Susan swung around, her eyes growing large at the question.

"It's me… Butterfly," Marla assisted.

Susan's eyes grew even larger and she stammered, wanting to move past Marla to retrieve her keys.

"I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else."

Susan retrieved her keys and made a beeline for the exit. Marla followed until she reached the sidewalk where Matt was talking to Olivia.

"Houston… Houston!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him, tapping him vigorously on the arm.

He interrupted his conversation with Olivia and looked at her.

"What's wrong?"

She pointed away from him, the excitement of the moment almost stealing her voice. "That woman!"

"The woman I was eating dinner with?" asked Olivia.

"Yes."

"That's Susan Reeder. A contact of mine."

Marla shook her head and anxiously argued, "No it's not! It's C.J.!"

Matt's eyes grew large.

"WHAT? Are you sure?"

She nodded vigorously.

He looked to where she was pointing, at this woman walking away from him on the sidewalk. Come to think of it, she did look like C.J. … at least from the back.

"C.J.!" he called out, starting towards her. He caught a glance of her silouette and his heart beat quickened. It looked so ... so ... like her.

"C.J.!" he called again several times, each louder than the previous, walking faster and faster.

"C.J.!"

Susan stopped at the corner, standing still looking forward, waiting for the light to change so she could escape into the crowd.

He caught up with her and grabbed ahold of her arm.

"C.J.!"

She reluctantly turned around, bracing for the pivotal moment.

Their eyes met.

She bit her lip as a single tear moistened her eye.

And he knew it was her.

"MY GOD! You're alive … all this time … YOU'RE ALIVE! I knew you weren't dead! No one believed me …"

He continued to ramble but she didn't respond, looking furtively to the left. Standing stock still, her eyes then slid down and rightward as if she was primed for action. Years of bad guys warranted that response. She still hadn't said anything. Truth was, she truly didn't know what to say. Or do.

At almost the same second C.J. averted her glance to the wrong direction, a moment used exquisitely by a suspicious male, mid-40s, wearing a beat-up Fedora, smoking a cigarette, and waiting in a car with the window open. His stare was so obvious, you could hear it. He was obviously a professional as that one turned glance proved so dangerous to the woman who had faced danger almost as a matter of course.

He drew.

Bullets flew.

Matt went down.

A car sped away.

Suddenly, there was no C.J.

Olivia grabbed her phone, and ran towards Matt.

"I need a bus and a tail on a black Mercedes ASAP!"


	5. Chapter 5

**The Return of Matt Houston - 5 / Apart - 8**

Olivia walked into the ICU to see if he was awake. She came to stand next to his bedside a few minutes just observing his breathing. As soon as he'd open his eyes, she'd want to prod him for information. Who was she kidding? As soon as he was awake _he'd_ be the one prodding for information. He'd want a recap of everything that had happened in a ten second time block: he discovered, purely by accident, his lost love C.J. was, in fact, alive, and then abducted right before his very eyes as he took a bullet in the side! He was so upset afterwards that he was in danger of bleeding out. The medics had to sedate him right on the spot. SVU detectives were on the case, searching for the car that sped off with C.J. inside. But that would probably be little consolation to Matt.

She admired his courage, much unlike the corrupt former Judge Nicholas Whitewood known more commonly as St. Nick. Seemed St. Nick had connections with an army of thugs. Either that or there was more to the story, more characters involved than they first thought. People like St. Nick made people like Olivia Benson sick. It had the same affect on Matt Houston. She had found a kindred soul in him, fleetingly entertaining the idea of a relationship. But after hearing him go on and on about his dear C.J., well, she'd chastised herself for letting her daydreams get the best of her.

He started to stir. She straightened her posture, anticipating his first words.

"Where … where am I?"

"Belleview Hospital."

"How… how long have I been here?" he grumbled, his mouth parched from drugs.

"About eight hours."

He searched his mind, fighting the pain killers and sedatives, trying to answer his next question of why. He was about to ask when it suddenly came to him.

"C.J.!" he exclaimed as his eyes doubled in size and he made a motion to sit up.

Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa! Hold on there, pal."

He turned his eyes directly to hers, grabbing ahold of her arm.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. But the FBI are also on the case," she said gently, trying to calm him. "They'll let us know as soon as they find something."

He fired right back, surprising her with his tone.

"Wait a minute. You! You set me up! You had your colleague come all to the way to California to get me and you knew she was alive along!"

She shook her head defensively.

"No! I swear I didn't know that Susan Reeder was C.J. I swear!"

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. I've never even seen a photo of C.J."

"Well, you've at least met her before today."

"That's true."

"You said she's a contact of yours. Didn't you ever check her out?"

"Yes and there was no indication whatsoever of her being anyone other than who she claimed to be."

He shook his head. "She must be working undercover. Who did she say she was working for when you talked to her?"

Olivia shrugged. "She didn't… well not really. She did refer to something called 'The Company'."

Matt brows lifted at that news. "The Company?"

"Does that mean something to you?"

"Yes … and I think a few things are starting to make sense. What did you two talk about at the restaurant?"

"Not much. She was quite vague, mysterious even. Said she and her colleagues were working on the same case as us and to stay out of it."

Olivia said all this, seemingly satisfied with the general command and it perplexed Matt.

"Don't tell me after what happened outside the restaurant, you'd even entertain listening to her?"

Olivia looked put off.

"I don't have any choice. It's out of my league."

He let out a condescending laugh.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to follow anyway? Aren't you at least a little curious as to what happened to her?"

"Of course I am, but it's out of my jurisdiction. I have no choice."

"So you bring me all the way from California for what? To tease me with the possibility that we'd nail St. Nick once and for all _and_ I'd find my C.J., only to tell me you're wiping your hands clean?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Houston, but …"

Her words were quickly shushed when her phone rang.

"Excuse me a second."

Matt rolled his eyes, impatiently sighing as she turned her attention away.

She looked puzzled at the screen.

"Hmm, that's strange."

"What is it?"

Holding the phone towards him, she showed him the text.

"132 8 A. Is it code?"

Olivia was perplexed.

"I'm not sure."

"Who's it from?"

"I don't recognize the number … unless..."

"Who?"

Her mind searched, thinking of all the possibilities. Matt locked eyes with her and read her face.

"C.J.?"

"It couldn't be. She's never used this number."

"That's besides the point. If it is her, what does 132 8 A stand for?"

Olivia's expressive brown eyes danced as she thought. And then all of a sudden, an idea popped in her head.

"Maybe it's an address."

"An address?"

"Yeah. Like 132 8th Ave."

Matt's brows lifted at the suggestion.

"She's giving you a location … of where she's being held!"

Olivia wasn't convinced.

"Unless it's a trap."

"Could be."

"There's also a chance it's not her."

Matt's instincts told him otherwise.

"No, it's from her. I have a feeling," he said, fighting to sit up despite obvious physical discomfort.

"A feeling?"

"Uh huh."

"Mr. Houston, if I check out this address, I have to alert a SWAT team and I can't justify it based on a feeling."

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but when it comes to C.J., I'm never wrong."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Mr. Houston, it's been a very long time since you've seen her."

He shook his head assertively.

"When they told me she was dead, I never believed it. It took thirty years to prove, but I was right."

He had her there.

"Okay, that may be, but I still can't send in a SWAT team without proof."

"Okay, we'll have to go it alone," he said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"WHAT?" she asked surprised. Obviously, she wasn't in tune to how he did things. He was a man who rarely, if ever, went by the book... even wounded.

"Well, you don't expect me to sit around and wait for bureaucracy and red tape, do you? C.J.'s life may be at risk and I'm not gonna waste a second getting her back. I can't take that kind of risk. I can't lose her again!"

"Mr. Houston, that might have worked for you back in the day, but it's 2015. If we don't play this by the book, we risk losing nailing this St. Nick, if that's who's behind all this."

Matt looked offended.

"Oh, he's behind it. All of it. And if I have to, I'm going to check this place out myself!" he said as he reached for the I.V. connection.

Olivia stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No way, pal."

Matt glared at her, raising his voice in protest, stunning her. "Look, lady. I haven't got time! I've been waiting thirty years to say a lot of things - things no one should ever keep inside. I mean, haven't you ever lost someone in your life, someone you loved more than life itself? Someone who complimented everything about you, made you feel as if there was nothing you couldn't do. Someone who was so easy to be with that time flew quickly. Someone whose absence has made time creep so slowly that there were days you almost couldn't see the point of living?"

Olivia gazed back at him, touched with his testimony and, moreover, with the passion and the pain in his eyes. She had more than an inkling of how he felt. She picked up her cell phone.

"Rollins … tell the captain we need a SWAT team at 132 8th Ave. ASAP."

Matt looked over at Olivia impressed.

"I think I like your style, Sgt. Benson."

She took the compliment with a grain of salt.

"Let's just hope we're not going on a wild goose chase."

"My gut is never wrong. Now, would you help me get up?"

She shook her head.

"You're not going anywhere. You were wounded less than ten hours ago."

He brushed his hand in the air. "Eh, it was nothing. Just a little flesh wound."

She glared at him.

"A flesh wound?"

"Uh huh. I'll be fine."

She sighed. "Okay."

He grimaced and made an inaudible sound as he climbed out of bed and landed on his feet.

"Mr. Houston," she said, supporting him by the arm.

"I'm fine … and, by the way, it's just Houston. All my friends call me Houston."

She shook her head. "Have you always risked your life to help people Houston?"

It was a question he hadn't been asked in years. He erased his boyish grin and looked away a moment before meeting her with very sincere and serious eyes.

"If that's what it takes."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Return of Matt Houston - 6 / Apart – 9**

As soon as they arrived at the house on 8th Avenue, Matt and Olivia climbed out of their cars.

"What's going on? See anything yet?"

"No," answered Amanda who was already there, along with several dozen uniforms.

But as soon as she said that, the front door of the house flung open and two people stood in the doorway. One was a man he couldn't identify. The other …

"C.J.!" Matt said only loud enough to be heard by Olivia and Amanda.

They looked back and forth at Matt questioning if he was sure and he nodded.

She took a step forward. "My God!" commented Matt when he saw what she was wearing around her neck. He stood up and moved a few paces closer. Olivia tried to stop him, but he ignored her touch.

And then another man … an older man… came into view.

"Whitewood," he called out.

The man nodded, unsurprised. "Houston. We meet again."

"What are you doing? Is she some kind of bait to get to me?"

He nodded. "Something like that. She's wired with explosives. All I have to do is press this button and she's history."

"What do you want?"

"The source of all my problems: you," he plainly stated.

Matt turned toward Olivia. "Okay. I'm going in."

"I can't let you do that."

Oh here we go again.

"You have no choice. I've already made up my mind."

"But, you don't know what he's got in store for you."

"It doesn't matter. My whole reason for living is in that house. If she goes, I go."

"But Houston! ..." her words trailed off.

Matt walked a few steps closer with the revolver tucked in his waist, then placed it on the ground so Whitewood could see.

"I'm unarmed, Whitewood."

He held his hands in the air moving ever so slowly, coming closer and closer to his nemesis and the woman he had been searching for for thirty years.

"Inside, Houston," Whitewood motioned with a side nod.

But Matt ignored him, staring instead at her.

"Houston!" he stated more assertively, with a hand motion towards the inside.

He tore his eyes away from her for a second, and looked over at Whitewood ascertaining whether or not he meant business. Then he obliged, keeping a close eye on her as he walked in. Oh he wanted so much to embrace her right now. He had been waiting so long to do such, but those three sticks of dynamite wrapped around her torso were preventing the kind of reunion he hoped.

C.J.'s face bore the emotions of a woman both scared and relieved. Here standing before her was the man her world used to revolve around, a man who got her through more than one tough event… a man who she once loved more than anyone.

"Hey C.J. How's it goin'?" he asked lightly, hoping some humor would soften the moment.

But she didn't answer and just nonchalantly removed the explosives from around her neck.

"What are you…?" Matt started to ask.

Whitewood smirked at him. "She works for me."

"WHAT?"

Matt looked at C.J. for confirmation. She nodded, wearing a confident expression on her face.

"Take him into the other room, tie him up and set the timer for five minutes. That's all it should take us to get out of here."

C.J. nodded while Matt just looked at her completely perplexed.

"C.J., what the hell is going on?"

But she wouldn't answer him.

She grabbed hold of his hands behind his back and tied them. Then she ordered him to walk forward.

"Move!"

He didn't budge, staring back at her with a confused and bewildered expression. She became forceful, thrusting her hands into his back, causing him to lose his balance and slam against the wall.

"Argh!" he exclaimed as his wounded side came in contact with hardened plaster. She used his vulnerability to push him into a room and close and lock the door behind her. Then she went over to him and placed her mouth next to his ear.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

He nodded dutifully, still reeling in pain from the blow.

She set the timer on the explosives and called out, "All set. T minus five minutes and counting."

He heard a scuffling of feet as he watched the seconds on the timer tick away. Then the door suddenly burst open and she started undoing the binds on his wrists.

"C'mon. Let's go. Follow me."

* * *

Before he knew it they were out the back door into an alley before practically falling into the backseat of a waiting taxi.

"17th and Chestnut," she quickly ordered. It all happened within a New York minute.

The driver quickly obeyed, speeding along city roads, navigating through evening traffic. It was getting darker and the slight drizzle was now a full rainstorm.

Matt watched her face, studying it as she kept her eyes peeled on the road on each side – the back, the front, the left side, the right side. She pulled out her cell phone – which looked a lot more complicated than one he'd ever seen - and made a call.

"Sunflower out. ETA about 0700 5/1."

She clicked off the phone and took a second out of her surveillance to turn in his direction, offering a polite smile. He was about to say something when the car suddenly stopped.

"C'mon. This way," she ordered urgently, motioning for him to follow her out the door.

He obliged, trying his best to keep up with her, dodging puddles and raindrops as they ran up the sidewalk and into an alley. They arrived at an unmarked door, getting wetter by the second as she punched in a code, and pushed open the door.

The door opened and then closed behind them where it was pitch black for a second. Then another door opened and a dim light grew brighter with each step they took. They seemed to be in some sort of tunnel. But where were they going? And, furthermore, why were they running from the police?

The tunnel seemed to end and they ascended a several flights of stairs. With each step Matt became more and more winded, but C.J. pushed on and he had no choice but to follow.

When they reached the top, C.J. opened the door a crack and scanned the area. "Come on. Quick," she ordered as they rushed into the hallway of what appeared to be a hotel. She led him down a hall, around the corner and down another hall until she stopped at a door with no number on it.

She pushed a few buttons, waited for a click, pulled Matt inside by the arm and quickly shut the door behind them, locking with several dead bolts.

"C.J. I …" he started, wanting to say what had been on his mind for thirty years, but she shushed him with a finger to her lips and preoccupied herself with scanning the room.

He watched her curiously as she set about checking the windows, the bathroom, the bedroom, the closet, the phone. When she was done, she stood with her hands on her hips and said, "There. Now, you were about to say something?"

He was dumbfounded ... too distracted with trying to figure her out and what had just happened.

"I uh … I …" he started, at a loss for words. Here before him was a golden opportunity and Mr. Smooth Talker was a bumbling mute.

She read his mind, her old Matt Houston intuition kicking in.

"You have a lot of questions."

He nodded.

"Yeah, I don't blame you. I would too if I were in your shoes. But I … uh, I'm not sure what to tell you … or what I _can_ tell you."

He sighed and offered a smile.

"It's okay. They can wait. I just wanna hold you."

And that was all she needed to hear. She melted, her posture welcoming as he moved closer to her, threw both arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. The motion almost surprised her, causing her to release a slight gasp. But then, as soon as she felt his strong arms around her, his heartbeat against her chest, his breath on her neck, she relished in his embrace. She felt like she had come home.

"Houston," she breathlessly exclaimed.

He released a little and brought his hands to her face, framing along her jaw line so he could convince his subconscious that he had his beloved C.J. in his very grip again. And there he just stayed a minute, or two, staring into those eyes of hers.

The intimate reunion caused her to release a tear. It had been a long time … too long, and for this moment she decided to let herself take a break from whatever business was pressing and just enjoy it.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't the kind of kiss one gives as a polite gesture to a friend when saying hello or goodbye. It was the kind of kiss one gives when a lifetime of passion, built up inside like a volcano, finally has an outlet to express itself. It was a lover's kiss. And he wasn't about to let go anytime soon.

Neither was she.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Return of Matt Houston – 7 / Apart – 10**

They came up for air and stood… just staring at each other, re-familiarizing themselves with the changes three decades had brought.

Her face bore only minor changes from the passing of years. There were a few wrinkles around her eyes, eyes that somehow seemed smaller yet still vibrant. There was some sagging skin on her formerly firm neck. She wore her dark wavy lock only slightly shorter than he remembered with the bangs swept off to the side. Overall she looked pretty much the same. If only he had fared as well in that department. He could only imagine what she was thinking about him.

He stopped, reminding himself that he had a few questions to ask. Where have you been? Why didn't you ever contact me? Why did you leave me a Dear John note and instead of talking to me? Why did you resort to such drastic measures to get away from me?

But it didn't seem she was going to give him the chance.

She leaned into him and kissed him along his jaw line, then higher, onto his cheek. She brought her chin to rest on his shoulder, wrapped her hands around his torso and gave him a hearty squeeze.

"Ouch!" he remarked stridently, unusual for a man with a high threshold of pain. She immediately pulled away.

He grimaced and put a hand to his side where it hurt. She narrowed her eyes, looking at him with concern, then focused on where the pain seemed to be originating from.

She motioned for him to lift his shirt.

He rolled his eyes thinking this is just great. She wouldn't have to ask what he's been doing the last thirty years, she'd see the evidence in his spare tire region.

He took a deep breath and lifted the corner of his shirt, bracing for her reaction in the form of a cunning wisecrack or at least an expression of shock. She didn't even flinch.

"Did I do that?" she asked tenderly as she touched the area around his wound.

He nodded.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!"

He felt bad for making her feel bad and was quick to correct himself.

"The bullet that struck me yesterday did most of the damage. Only the bruises are yours."

The bruises to his heart were hers too.

"Why don't you have a seat … over there," she instructed, pointing to the sofa.

While he moved to the sofa, she headed to the freezer to fill up an ice bag. She returned and sat down next to him, placing the ice bag as gently as she could on the area of concern. It seemed like something she had done a time or two before.

He offered up a polite smile as he braced from the sting of the ice. He knew the first few minutes were the worst. In no time the skin would be numb, the ice wouldn't feel so bad and the swelling would recede. Of course, having the love of his life apply it made it hurt a lot less.

While she held the ice bag in place, he put his hand in her hair, stroking her face along her hairline.

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes."

She blushed.

He was hoping his comment would spawn a remark, or conversation… something. It could be a witty comeback, a comment about the weather, the stock market, the Kardashians. Anything's better than silence.

He aimed to keep the lines of communication open – even if it was one-sided.

"As you can see I didn't do as good as you in the looks department. I was a mess after you left, turned to some really bad habits, and you know, well … domino effect."

But that comment hit a nerve with her and she looked downward, away from his stare.

He placed his fingers under her chin and lifted it. When she looked back up at him, there was moisture in her eyes - eyes displaying the story of a complicated yet compassionate woman who had a lot to tell. When she would tell it, he didn't know. Knowing her well, she had her reasons … and they probably were good reasons. What he did know is that his feelings, based on some very old memories, were stronger than ever.

She leaned closer and kissed his lips … just brushing them gently. When she pulled back she studied him a second, but it was only a second as their mouths came crashing together in a passionate celebration.

His lips traveled to her cheek, then to her ear before venturing towards the nape of her neck.

She pleasantly took it all in, then whispered her next order, "Make love to me", like a Siren calling her prey. He was a little surprised, a little perplexed by it all. She certainly was a woman of few words. Didn't she want to at least warm-up with some small talk? How about an apology for putting him through hell for the last thirty years? And, by the way, what's this business of working for Whitewood?

Her lips returned to his lips and that's when he realized all that silly talking would just waste time.

* * *

When he awoke the next morning he took a moment getting his bearings. Where was he? A hotel room? An apartment? What day was it? Monday? Tuesday?

And then he remembered.

He smiled, the memories of the night filling his mind with good thoughts. It was a night he'd never forget.

His C.J. was alive and he got celebrate that earth-shattering fact by making love to her in a way he had dreamed about for years! The promises he made to himself - that if he ever found her alive, he wouldn't waste a minute of it - were put into motion. All those years of wondering, wanting her were finally gone. With the way she reciprocated, it was obvious she didn't care he wasn't the most handsome man anymore and wanted him for who he was. Damn, he was stupid for letting her go.

But wait, hold everything: was it real? Had the night he hoped for actually happened or was it all a dream?

He looked over at the empty space on the bed and touched the sheet. He could smell the slight trace of perfume. There was a strand or two of long, dark wavy brown hairs on the sheets. He knew for sure it wasn't a dream now, but where was she? He would have liked to have followed up such a great night with morning pillow talk, cuddling, an encore.

"C.J.?" he called out as he climbed out of bed, grabbed his shorts and pulled them on. "C.J.?"

He walked around searching for any sign of her when he found a hand-written note on the refrigerator door. His gut dropped. Oh no. Another note.

"Sorry to leave you so early, but duty calls. Don't worry about me. I'll be back before you know it. Stay low and take care of that wound. Love, C.J."

"Okay …" he commented out loud. After thirty years it sure was a short reunion. But at least he knew she was still alive and had the same feelings for him as he – she made it abundantly clear last night.

He thought about calling his cousin and few other people and saying I told you so. He had longed for the day to happily rub it in their faces that he wasn't wrong about his C.J. That day was here but the circumstances dictated that he shouldn't call anyone at all. As far as he knew, that building they were in was blown to smithereens… and he was assumed dead. Even though he didn't understand everything that was going on and how all the pieces fit together, he knew he had to help C.J. any way he could. He trusted her completely.

But, wait, on second thought, he should call Will, just in case word got to California that reknowned detective Matt Houston died in an explosion in New York. Being a former prisoner-of-war, Will didn't need to be put through that kind of duress.

He returned to the bedroom, searching for his phone by lifting up various pieces of clothing that had landed on interesting places. A sock on top of the TV, a shirt draped over a plant, a pair of pants partially laying underneath the bed. Matt smiled to himself as he fetched the phone from the pocket of his pants. If anyone didn't believe he got lucky last night, all they'd have to do is see the evidence.

"Hey Cuz. How's it going?" he asked in a chipper mood as soon as Will answered. Will was immediately suspicious.

"It's going fine," he said with a groggy, reserved tone. "Where are you calling from?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Oh ... okay. Is everything all right?"

"Never better."

Then why was Matt calling him at such an odd hour?

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yep!"

Will was dumbfounded.

"Okay, then why are you calling me at 4:30 in the morning?"

Oops, Matt thought. He was so high he forgot about the time difference.

"Oh, sorry Will. I just wanted to call you before the news hit L.A. If you hear anything about me being killed in an explosion, it's not true."

Will held the phone away from his ear and stared at it.

"Okay …. I'm almost afraid to ask what kind of trouble you've gotten into now, but the fact you sound better than you have in a years makes me think you're just fine."

Matt beamed. He wasn't just fine. He was on cloud nine.

Suddenly his phone call was interrupted with another.

"Ah, Will. Gotta go. Houston …" he answered, not giving Will a chance to say goodbye.

"Houston!" Sgt. Benson exclaimed on the other end.

"Oh hi," he said with disappointment, hoping it was C.J.

"Is that really you?"

"None other."

"We thought you were dead!"

"Yeah, well, can we keep it that way for awhile?" he asked as he glanced at the minute hand on his watch. He didn't want to give her much information, especially in regards to his location. If his call was being traced, he had only seconds to talk … at least that's how it was done in the old days.

"Okay, if that's what you want. Can you at least tell me something?"

"Sure."

"Where have you been? And what happened to Whitewood and his people?"

"Well, where I've been is not important. As far as Whitewood, I'm not sure. Like us, I think they got out before the explosion."

"Us?"

"Yeah, me and C.J."

He beamed when he said her name. It was obvious how happy he was – even over the phone.

"C.J.? You were with her? Where is she?"

"I don't know."

Olivia was suspicious. Why wasn't he upset about it?'

"You don't know? Well, when's the last time you saw her?"

He stalled for a moment, trying to find the words to convince her yet be tactful.

"Last night," he answered simply. "In bed."

Olivia felt embarrassed.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay."

"So what's your plan?"

"No plan right now. She said she'd be home soon and for me to stay low."

"Wow. No other information?"

"No ..."

"You trust her that much … even after all these years?"

"I trust C.J. more than anyone. What are you getting at?"

"Nothing," she quickly dismissed. "She probably has a good reason for being so secretive. She asked us to stay out of it, so I guess we just have to be patient."


	8. Chapter 8

**The Return of Matt Houston – 8/Apart – 11**

He felt certain she'd return but admitted to himself that his certainty was more heart than head. The facts just didn't support his hypothesis. A woman of very few words, she didn't seem like the same C.J. he knew once upon a time. But then again, he reminded himself, thirty years is a long time, and he probably wasn't the same man she knew in 1985 either. In the meantime, he was famished. He headed over to the refrigerator.

"Let's see here…" he said out loud, surveying the contents. That's when his optimism was quickly dashed.

Inside looked like a health food store. He lifted a couple of jars and bottles and made a face. Tofu, yogurt, celery, spinach, almond milk and a bottle of a very curious looking green juice. The label said "100% natural! A full day of vegetables!" "Hmmm," he thought, "no way is this going to taste good." Still, he picked it up, unscrewed the cap, took a whiff and made quite the face before quickly closing it. It didn't even smell good! He searched for eggs. There were lots of things one can do with eggs and most nutritionists and foodies would deem them a viable option. She had to have eggs. Yes, he soon discovered, she did, found behind the bottle of almond milk. But what else? He closed the door and opened her cabinets searching for bread but only found flax seed, organic granola, oatmeal, wheat germ, organic canned soup and brown rice.

It looked like he had no choice but to eat healthy.

He managed a decent breakfast but within seconds of the last bite of scrambled eggs, he was already thinking about lunch. Had his whole world revolved around food of late? Or was his stomach so corrupted it didn't know how to be satisfied with a regular-sized meal? Or maybe, just maybe, he dealt with his frustrating personal life over the years by eating. Well, if he did, now was a new day. Gone were the days of guilt, remorse and loneliness. His future was bright. He had his C.J. back. Well, okay _maybe_ he had his C.J. back. Time would tell. Speaking of time, what could he possibly find to do to fill the time until she returned?

Not one to sit idle for very long, he set his sights on getting something accomplished without leaving the apartment.

Since he was without his luggage, he searched for a washer and dryer. He found one tucked behind a set of closet doors just off the kitchen. He grabbed his clothes, and the sheets from the bed and tossed them in.

He quickly showered then stood looking around the bedroom, trying to figure what next to do. Not much one can do in a towel. But for first time in a long time he realized he was interested in investigating. It had been a long time since he felt that way. With his towel wrapped around his waist, he set his sights on trying to find out more about C.J. and what she'd been up to.

He knew she was obviously a health nut, with her still lean, strong frame and her collection of food, but what about her interests, her hobbies? Did she possess any mementos, any pictures from her past? Apparently not.

He sat down at her desk and tried to open the drawer. Nothing. He tried another drawer… locked. He tapped his fingers on the top of it, wondering what to do. He was never good at picking locks. He stood up and started searching for something to jimmy it open with nonetheless.

Suddenly he heard the door to the apartment open and close. She's back, he thought excitedly. He started out the bedroom and called out.

"C.J.?"

He walked into the living room and came face to face with someone who certainly wasn't C.J. Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, the man seemed to be about Matt's age and height, but in much better shape.

"You Houston?" the man asked.

Leery, Matt wasn't sure what to answer.

"Depends. Who are you?"

The man smiled and set down a suitcase.

"Name's John. C.J. asked me to stop by and bring you your luggage. Looks like I got here just in time," he said with a nod to Matt's informal attire.

Suspicious, Matt narrowed his eyes.

"How did you get ahold of my luggage?"

The man shrugged. "Traced your credit card activity, found a reservation in your name at the uptown Marriot. You know, someone as well-known as you ought to use an alias."

Matt picked up his suitcase, set it on the table and opened it, still keeping a suspicious eye on the man. Yes, it definitely was his stuff, untouched too.

"How did you know my credit card number?"

John twisted his face, trying to think of an answer.

"Um… we have our ways."

"We? You and C.J? Or is there someone else I should know about?"

"No. The less you know, the better."

"Okay... Speaking of C.J., where is she?"

"None of your business," he said flatly.

"None of my business?"

"She wanted me to make sure you didn't leave the apartment and you were taking care of that wound," he said with a nod to Matt's side.

"Oh. Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Nope, but I hope it's soon. No offense, but I was gonna catch up on some shuteye this afternoon and not be on watch patrol. I just got back from duty in the … well, it doesn't matter. I need my beauty sleep. I'm not as young as I used to be," he said dryly.

"None of us are," Matt answered just as dryly as he pulled out some clean clothes to wear and retrieved to the bedroom to dress.

When he emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, he took note that the man had settled himself on the sofa facing a large TV screen like he had done it before.

The screen could be seen from not only the living room but the adjoining kitchen and dining area too. It could even be seen from the bar tucked in the back right corner. As he pivoted his eyes around the room, he noticed the layout seemed to be similar to that of the old penthouse office suite. There was even an outdoor patio just behind the screen. Coincidence or not?

"So… you're the famous Matt Houston," John forced himself to say as Matt took a seat on the sofa.

"I am. How did you say you know C.J.?"

"I didn't," he tersely answered.

"Oh," Matt responded, scrambling for a way to converse with the stranger. It became quickly obvious that John was a man who hated socializing … probably because he hated talking … which is a good quality if he was a spy.

John took note of the expression on Matt's face and chastised himself for being so ornery. Guarding Matt Houston wasn't exactly like guarding a member of the defunct KGB or a terrorist of some sort. He was just some former hot-shot private eye, notorious for chasing fast women with fast cars, an old friend of C.J's so maybe he was okay.

"Oh what the hell. I guess you could say I work with her."

Matt perked up at the information. "You're with The Company too?"

John stared back at him, stunned that he knew that much.

"How do you know about The Company?"

Matt gave a relaxed expression.

"My uncle used to work for them. I never knew exactly what kind of work he did, but he did relay quite a few stories of spies and secret missions."

John nodded, seemingly agreeing that description.

"Your uncle… hmm… Roy Houston, right?"

"That's correct."

"Yeah, I heard about him. Quite a reputation. Was part of an elite group called the Five Fingers."

"Sounds like you've done your homework."

"Part of my job is to know as much as I can about people."

"Oh? So then you probably know a lot about C.J."

John shot him a strange expression, retreating to his previous persona.

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't."

Matt wasn't prepared for that answer and had to take a moment to regroup. Maybe if he shared some information of his own, John would return the gesture.

"You know, I've known C.J. since we were five years old. Uh huh. Spilled ice cream on her at a party. She had on a brand new dress. That's how we met."

John looked back at him, only remotely interested.

"Then she kicked me in the shins and pushed me to the ground."

Matt said it humorously trying to get a reaction from John, but he didn't break a smile. When was C.J. coming home?

* * *

About three hours later the door to the apartment burst open. Both men jumped up with John drawing his gun.

"Houston?" she called out as she closed the door and set a bag on the kitchen counter.

John rolled his eyes and returned his gun to his holster while Matt went to greet her.

"Heya C.J.," he said, taking her hands and giving her a quick kiss.

He was relieved she had returned so soon. For C.J., it was a wonderful feeling to come home to someone special. It had been awhile.

"How's your wound?" she asked, taking her hand and touching his side.

"It's ah, ouch, it's fine."

"Fine, huh?"

"OW!" he said louder when she touched the most sensitive area.

"Did you put ice on it while I was gone?"

"No, but I did do laundry. See?" he said, pointing to a pile of linens sitting on the table.

She gingerly wrapped her arms around him.

"Hmmm, a man who's good in the sack _and_ does laundry."

He reciprocated her embrace and kissed her, locking lips for longer than John could tolerate.

"Okay, okay. This is more than I want to see. I'm outta here, Susan."

She kept her eyes fixed on Matt, interlocking her hands around the back of his neck.

"Thanks for your help, John."

"Don't mention it," he grumbled as he punched in the code and unlocked the door.

"Now, where were we …" she said as she leaned in and gave Matt a sultry kiss on his lips.

He had a lot of time to think while she was gone and promised himself to ask her a few questions before getting drawn into her spell. But now that he was in the moment, well, easier said than done.

He loved the feeling of her lips on his, the way she would gently brush along the stubble of his chin as she sought his mouth out. Her smell was so inviting, so familiar. At least that aspect had not changed. She always smelled great.

She pulled away and smiled. "Did you and John have a nice day together?"

"Not really. He's kind of a boring date, C.J."

"He sure is," she answered as if she knew from first-hand experience.

He pulled back and studied her face.

"He said he works with you. Is there some other history between you two?"

She brushed him off. "Nothing other than some R-rated jokes and harmless teasing."

But Matt kept looking at her as if he could gain her honesty from staring into her pupils.

"Houston!" she chided.

"Well, it's just that ... well ..." he said, taking a deep breath. "C.J., doncha think we have a lot of catching up to do? I mean thirty years..."

As Matt waited for her answer, he celebrated the fact he got to stand his case in a gentle and tactful way.

She looked downward, taking hold of his hands.

"I know. But, look, like I said before, there's a lot I can't tell you."

He squeezed her hands and let his forehead meet hers, leaning against her.

"You can tell me anything."

She melted, touched not only by his words, but the way he said it. So sweet, so sexy, his baritone voice dropping in volume.

"I know. I found out the hard way."

He pulled away and drew a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

"I should have talked to you, and not run away like I did. I know that now and I've paid for it dearly. I've missed you terribly. I spent a lot of nights wishing I could just pick up the phone and call you, or better, wishing you were right next to me in bed."

What a coincidence. He spent a lot of nights wishing the same thing.

He offered a forgiving smile.

"I've missed you too."

"And I do want to tell you everything ... soon. But for now ... for now, can we just make up for lost time?"

He couldn't resist her plea. The way she asked it, so sweet, so sexy. She sounded like the old C.J. he knew and loved. He answered her by wrapping his arms around her and drawing her closer, gracing his lips onto hers gently at first and then with more passion and intensity. He didn't know if they could make up for lost time, but they could certainly try.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Return of Matt Houston - 9/Apart – 12**

He woke up the next morning feeling the usual euphoria from spending a night with the woman he loved, but he also felt remorse. He didn't ask the questions he promised himself he'd ask. And now she was gone …again, and there was no telling when she'd return. How ironic that the man who was once one of the best investigators in the country missed yet another opportunity to have the most important conversation of his life. Perhaps he lost his touch. He used to be so good at the detective game - but that was a long time ago.

This day, though, he vowed would be different. He'd be more aggressive, take matters into his own hands, find out as much he could. He'd start with that locked desk in her bedroom.

He searched for something to jimmy it open with and went to the kitchen, opening several drawers until he found a small screwdriver. When he returned he started wedging the tip in the keyhole, trying to outwit the lock. He stopped when he heard the door to the apartment open and close.

"Damn!" he swore under his breath. It was probably John, his unwelcome guardian. He had no choice but to set the screwdriver down and greet him. His chain reaction thinking led him to wishing he had a strong drink like a screwdriver to offer him. Maybe if he got him drunk he'd be more interesting to talk to. Then an idea popped in his head. He went into his suitcase and took a few tranquilizers from a pill bottle and put them in his pocket.

"You again," he greeted John sourly as soon as he saw him, also wondering if it was his real name. It seemed so plain, so boring – which, now that he thought about, was much like his personality.

"Nice to see you too," he said, mimicking the negative tone.

"Coffee?" he offered, making his way over to the kitchen counter.

"No thanks. I don't drink coffee."

Of course he didn't. Only interesting people drink coffee.

"Anything else, you know like a beer or something?"

"I don't drink alcohol on the job."

"Okay …"

"Is there a bottle of vegetable juice in the refrigerator? I'll take some of that."

Matt made a face. "You mean the green stuff?"

"Uh huh."

"You like it?"

"Yep."

Matt shook his head.

"Okay. One glass of green rocket fuel coming up."

Matt opened the refrigerator, lifted out the suspicious green juice, unscrewed the cap and poured it into a glass while making a face. He secretively reached into his pocket and dropped four pills into the glass. He watched them begin to dissolve, swishing the glass around to speed up the process.

He walked over to the sofa, bringing John his juice as he settled with his cup of coffee.

"What's the latest on the weather?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

John shrugged while staring blankly at the TV. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Matt sighed inwardly as he surreptitiously watched John drink the juice.

"How are the Mets and Yankees doing so far this season?"

John shrugged. "I don't know."

"Not a sports guy?"

"Nope."

Matt drew in a deep breath, looking forward to the moment when John would succumb to the medicine.

* * *

About 45 minutes later John's eyelids started to waver close and before he knew it, he was out cold on the sofa.

Matt rushed back to the desk, determined to open it, working harder on the lock, hitting it with greater effort than he did earlier.

He tried to do it as softly as he could, yet quickly and forcefully enough to open it. He was about to swear at it again when it finally gave way. He celebrated quietly by pumping his fist in the air, then quickly started rummaging through its contents.

In the first drawer he found the usual desk accessories: a stapler, pens, pencils, and scissors. In another drawer, underneath a memo pad, he found a small picture frame, double hinged. When he opened it, there were two black and white photographs under glass. He recognized them immediately. One was of C.J.'s father, and one was of C.J. and him when they were much younger. He felt special. She kept it all these years.

At the bottom of the frames, though, peaked a tiny piece of white paper. Curious, he tugged on it and removed it, unfolded it, and found some numbers written on it.

"123987. 102030. 198555. 010203."

Hopeful thinking told him one of the numbers belonged to the lock on the apartment door. He walked out into the living room and went to the punch pad on the door and pressed the first set of numbers. That didn't work so he tried another… then another… until… he heard a click. It opened. Success.

He grabbed a few belongings and walked out into the hall, doing his best to retrace his steps from two days prior until he was at the doors to the elevator. From there he pressed the button for the lobby. When the doors opened, he walked out and hailed a taxi to Sgt. Benson's office.

* * *

Sgt. Benson heard the door to her office open but she just assumed it was one of her coworkers. She didn't look up at first, intent on finishing some work on her computer.

"Sgt. Benson…" he interrupted.

She recognized his voice and immediately lifted her head.

"Houston! What brings you here?"

He shut the door behind him and removed his hat and sunglasses. Between his makeshift disguise and his body language, it was obvious he didn't want too many people to know he was there.

"What do you know about C.J?" he asked pointedly.

"What do I know about C.J.? What do you mean?"

A little embarassed to admit his reasons, he drew in a deep breath. "She's been very secretive, hasn't told me much. She told me to trust her... _you_ told me to trust her, and I do, it's just that ... well ... something's not right. I can feel it."

In the days since the shooting and his disappearance, SVU detectives had done their own research – at least research that wasn't hidden by The Company, and came upon some startling information on C.J., alias Susan Reeder. They weren't sure if or when they'd get the opportunity to share their discoveries with Houston. Furthermore, the eternal romantic in her wasn't keen on dashing his long-awaited dream.

Olivia swallowed hard, bracing to share what she knew with him.

"Alright. But you may not like what I have to show you."

He looked at her curiously as she returned to her desk and pulled out a file from a desk drawer. The best way to tell him, she decided, was to show him the evidence. He would never believe it otherwise.

* * *

A few hours later, C.J. returned to the apartment and immediately searched for Matt.

"Houston?" she called out, walking into the kitchen, then into the living room.

She didn't see any sign of him nor John and a sickening feeling started in her gut. She walked towards the patio and caught a glimpse of John sleeping soundly on the sofa. It wasn't like him to fall asleep on the job. She put her hands on her hips and thought a moment.

"Mattlock Houston!" she cursed in stressed whisper.

She knew him well. She knew he wasn't one to sit idle and let others do legwork for him. He didn't like being in the dark. He must have snuck out on John when he was asleep. Just when she thought she had enough work to do. Houston was making her life harder – much harder.

She walked over to John and shook him.

"John! John!"

"What!" he said upon arousal.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?"

"Where's Houston?"

He sprang up and did a quick search.

"He's gone?"

"Apparently so. Guess he took advantage of your precious beauty sleep and left. God only knows where's he's gone. We can't protect him now."

"How did he get out? He could only have done that if he had the code. Did you tell him?"

"NO!"

An idea popped into both their heads at the same time. She retreated to the bedroom to check on her desk with John trailing behind her. She went over to it and opened the drawers easily. The lock had been broken. Things were not as she left it.

"Damn!"

"He broke into your desk and found the code."

"It seems so."

"I'll see if I can track him. Maybe he didn't get too far."

* * *

After his meeting, Matt needed a long walk in the open air to think over his new dilemma. But asphalt, concrete and tall buildings blocking the sun weren't helping much. He needed grass, trees, wildlife. He hailed a cab to let him off in Central Park.

C.J. was probably in the apartment by now, puzzled and possibly even angry as to his whereabouts. He was angry too. His head told him to believe the iron-clad evidence Sgt. Benson showed him. His heart told him there had to be very good reasons C.J. would do such things, if she did such things. She had been so secretive, told him to trust her without giving him much information. What was he to think? It could very well be that there was a very good explanation. There was also a chance that there wasn't.

Could it be that C.J. was involved in something illegal? It had been 30 years since they'd been together. Maybe in the years since they'd been apart, she had gone bad. She knew his capabilities, his strengths, his weaknesses. Maybe with that wealth of information, she was setting him up to dupe him somehow, distracting him by seducing him, knowing full well he'd fall for her and lose sight of the most important issue.

What if she wasn't even the real C.J.? What if by some bizarre twist, she was one of those secret agents who had plastic surgery, spent years studying a person's mannerisms, vocal inflections and their traits and assumed her identity? Or what if it was part of some elaborate plot by one of his enemies to do him in once and for all. They found a doppelganger – a woman who sounded like C.J., looked like C.J., acted like C.J. It wouldn't be the first time someone went to extremes to bring him down. The exact scenario happened to him once upon a time, so it was possible. Maybe the woman he's been sleeping the past two nights with was, in fact, a complete stranger.

He knew it was time to put emotions aside, confront her with the cold hard facts. It was time to have a conversation he had been waiting 30 years to have.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Return of Matt Houston 10/Apart – 13**

He took a cab back to Chestnut Street, retracing his steps: through a tunnel, up a flight of stairs, into the elevator, down the hall until he was at the door to the apartment. He punched in the numbers and quickly opened and closed the door.

She swung around as soon as she heard him. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to soften. It didn't help that she looked irresistible to him right now. That old adage about a woman looking beautiful when she's angry seemed true at the moment.

She was about to speak when he cut her off.

"Wait a minute, I know what you're thinking. But before you say anything, I have a few questions for _you_."

"For _me_?"

"Uh huh."

"What kind of questions?"

"Tell me again what you meant earlier about working for Whitewood. What kind of work?"

She didn't want to answer. She was the one in charge of this case, the one calling the shots. Not him.

"Where were you? Why did you leave the apartment? What did you do to John?"

"I just gave him something to help him sleep. And I had to leave C.J. I had to find out for myself what's going on … and I'm glad I did."

"Where did you go?"

"SVU headquarters."

"WHAT?"

For the first time since their reunion he felt he was finally making progress, thinking with his head like the investigator he once was. Too bad it had to come at the cost of irritating the love of his life.

"Seems the police found some pretty disturbing information on you," he confided, analyzing her facial expressions and reaction carefully.

"On me? Like what?"

"Evidence linking you to grooming teens for Whitewood's clients."

Her expressive eyes grew twice their size.

"WHAT?"

"Is it true?"

She couldn't believe he was asking her such a question!

"You're kidding right?"

"I just want to know what's going on."

"I can't believe this!"

"Well, frankly, neither can I!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're being quite defensive, which only leads me to believe there's some truth to it, if in fact you are the C.J. I know and love. Now tell me what the hell is going on! Don't you think you've kept me in the dark long enough?"

She clenched her jaw.

"I told you there were good reasons… very good reasons, and that I couldn't tell you much. Isn't that enough?"

"If it were 1985 right now and not 2015, I'd say, sure. But after thirty years of being apart? C'mon C.J. This is me, Houston. We were so close once, could tell each other anything, practically read each other's minds. Just please, level with me, huh? Don't you think I'm owed the truth?"

She started thinking over his demands, debating all the ramifications of him learning the facts. Her secretive ways were necessary in order to protect him – the less he knew, the better. But she was between a rock and a hard place. How would she ever solve this case with him interfering? How would she ever solve this case with him distrusting her.

"You know, I'm surprised you _don't_ hate me. I've given you plenty of reasons. Lord knows if I were in your shoes, I'd feel that way."

"I could never hate you C.J.," he said tenderly, wondering if she was trying to distract him or avoid answering his question.

"It's funny. I thought I was over you a long time ago. I only had to take one look at you and I was right back where I was. Thirty years..." she said as she snapped her fingers. "Gone like that."

He continued listening patiently, hoping she was on her way to explaining what he needed to know.

"I wasn't good to you, C.J. You had every right to be upset with me."

"Upset?" she half-chuckled. "Upset? Oh I was beyond upset. I was devastated! You know that old line about hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned? Well, I sure as hell lived it! I mean, after all these years, as close as we were, I still wonder how could you want Elizabeth or any woman after being with me! We shared _everything._ I thought I meant more to you than that."

"I was a louse, I admit it," he confessed, pleased she was finally opening up. "I took you for granted. But you go and leave, fake your death of all things! Do you know what you put me through? Wait, forget me. I was the one who never believed you actually died in that plane crash. I've always been able to sense when you were in trouble and my gut told me you were alive… somewhere. Everyone thought I was crazy … still do. Murray, Chris, Will, all your friends - they all grieved for you, Uncle Roy especially. He loved you like a daughter. Do you know what your leaving did to him?"

She felt lower than dirt, but held it together and gave her stock answer.

"It was a necessary move in order to work for The Company."

"But couldn't you have at least told _me_? Couldn't you have picked up a phone, sent me a letter or a sign of some sort that you were alive? Did I really hurt you that bad?"

"Yes, you did," she bluntly answered. "But once I had made the decision to join The Company, I had no choice. I was sworn into not telling anybody. Even you. Even after I had forgiven you."

His voice softened. "If only you had talked to me."

"I did try talking to you, remember? Maybe I only hinted at my feelings. I didn't think I had to be so damn blunt! We were so close, I thought my feelings were obvious. You were so thrilled to be marrying Elizabeth - I would have caused a riff between us if I had come right out and told you what a mistake I thought you were making. And I wasn't about to stand around and wait for you to realize how wrong she was for you on your own and watch you wallow in self-pity after your relationship fell apart! The way I saw it, no matter if I stayed or if I left, I would have been miserable."

She had him there, and he felt bad too, knowing what a cad he was to her back then. He had spent the last thirty years calling himself every name in the book, blaming his actions for the reasons she left. Turns out he was right.

"Ironic thing is that Elizabeth and I called things off the night before you left. When I received your letter the next morning, I rushed to the airport looking for you, but your plane had already taken off."

She did her best to digest the earth-shattering news.

"You mean if I had waited a day or even a few hours ..."

"Try a few seconds."

She stared back at him, wishing she heard him wrong.

"I missed your plane by mere seconds."

"God!"

He tried to think of the words to get past their history without being cruel.

"So…" he ventured. "We were both right, and we were both wrong."

She thought about it a moment before acknowledging his statement.

"Yeah, I guess we were."

"So what do we do now?" he dared.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I would love to pretend the last thirty years never happened."

"We can't go back…"

"… I know but …"

He took a step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer.

"We spent the first thirty years in each other's lives. How about we spend the last thirty years the same way."

"I like the sound of that but …"

"But?"

She pulled away, paced, and he had no choice but to wait for her next words anxiously. She bore the persona of a woman conflicted.

She stopped suddenly and turned towards him.

"Double agent," she said out of the blue.

"Double agent?"

"Uh huh. And you gotta believe there were things I did that didn't want to do."

"I believe you C.J.," he said sincerely.

"Having you here in New York, seeing you you after all these years has been wonderful, but … "

"But?"

"Well … it's also complicated things."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Complicated things? How so?"

"We've been tracking Whitewood for several years, getting as close as we could so we can get the iron clad goods on him. In the last few months, Whitewood has joined forces with another one of your archenemies. He used his connections to get him out of prison early. Then they started building a whole network of slave trading with underage prostitutes. But now that they know you're in town, they're abandoning their day jobs. They both want to see your head on a platter. They won't rest until they do."

"Who? Who's the other man?"

"Cord Cody. He's never forgotten that you killed his father."

"In self-defense."

"Right. But the way he sees it, well, he just sees it as a motive for murder. He's a very dangerous man, Houston, and he won't stop until you're dead and buried."


	11. Chapter 11

**The Return of Matt Houston 11/Apart – 14**

A few things were finally starting to make sense to Matt. He leaving the apartment - the only protection he had from his enemies - was not only risky, it was making C.J.'s job harder than it needed to be. Bad enough she had to spend the better part of two years lowering her standards and morals to win over Whitewood's trust. It couldn't have been easy for someone who was once Matt's right hand to prove her loyalty to a cunning low-life. Now that she was this close to nailing Whitewood, Cord Cody comes along and changes their game plan. Matt only complicated it further by showing up in New York.

They swung around as soon as they heard the door open. It was John, a.k.a. Scooter, along with Marty, a.k.a. Froggie.

"Oh good. You're back … and in one piece," quipped John as soon as he saw Matt. He was both relieved and annoyed, wanting to give him a stern lecture, but with the intense looks on Matt and C.J.'s faces, it was obvious they were in the midst of a deep discussion.

"Hi guys," C.J. said in an exhausted tone.

"I take it this is another one of your co-workers," asked Matt, trying to regroup.

She nodded. "Yes. This is Marty. He and John have been working with me on this case. Marty, this is …"

Marty moved forward and extended his hand with a excited, friendly grin on his face. "Oh, I know. Matt Houston, right?"

Matt reciprocated his handshake. "Yes. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too!"

C.J. decided she'd waste no time in sharing her news. It would change the mood completely.

"Guys, I um … I had to tell Houston everything."

John's eyes flew open wide.

"Everything?"

"Yeah."

"Just great!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

"Well this changes a few things!" echoed Marty, erasing the grin from his expression.

Matt interrupted. "Now wait a minute, why don't you guys give me a chance, huh? I can help. I've solved some pretty serious crimes and I know how goons like Whitewood and Cody operate."

C.J. backed him up. "He's good."

"Maybe he _was_ a long time ago. But he's recovering from a bullet wound and well … " John said, negatively eyeing his physique, "He doesn't look like he's been to the gym in a while."

Matt leered at him. "Hey! Wait a minute!"

"He's too emotionally involved, his judgment is clouded. And when's the last time he was on a case anyway?"

Matt clenched his jaw. "I'd watch what I'd say if I were you. I've put more kidnappers and terrorists away in ten years than you have in a lifetime!"

C.J. silenced him with a simple touch to his arm.

"Guys, we don't have time for this. What's the plan?"

John begrudgingly took a deep breath and softened his voice.

"Well, it's too dangerous for Houston to be here anymore. Someone may have spotted him coming or going. We'll have to move him."

"Okay."

"And we'll have to up our game," Marty said with a nod towards C.J.

"How do you mean?" asked Matt, still fuming under his breath.

"C.J. will have to be totally immersed in Whitewood's camp now."

"What do you mean, totally immersed?"

"She'll have to be with him full-time, no coming and going. She'll have to convince him to take over the selling arrangements so she can meet whoever is in charge."

Every hair on Matt's neck stood up. "Full-time? As in nights? In his domain?" he asked.

"Yes."

He shook his head adamantly. "NO! I don't like it. It's too dangerous!"

"It is, but it's the only way at this point. You see, Whitewood's getting pressure from his buyers. They want new slaves. He's been so consumed with finding you that he's let go of his other responsibilities."

"Well that's good, isn't it? I mean, his buyers might get impatient and seek justice in their own way, right?"

John shook his head at the same time as C.J.

"Last I counted, Whitewood had about 23 underage girls being held against their will. We let his buyers have their way, there's no telling what they may do to them."

Marty continued explaining.

"You see, C.J. has been very effective at arranging escapes for the girls. When they are about to make the exchange, our people step in to arrest the buyers without publicity. In return the girls go to the police and tell them a woman working for Whitewood groomed them for slavery. They don't quite understand everything, but C.J. convinces them to report her in order to keep her cover."

Matt looked at C.J. incredulously. Did she really do all that? It seems he had a lot to learn about the new C.J.

"What I don't understand is why you haven't put Whitewood out of business yet. It seems you have enough evidence on him."

"Because he's not the ring leader. It won't do any good to just arrest him. Whoever is the ring leader would just get him out of jail, and he'd be back in business the next day. With every slave exchange, we keep hoping he'll lead us to whoever's in charge."

"Do you know his name?"

"We have some ideas, but we're not certain."

Matt sighed heavily. It sounded like they had more questions than answers and he knew from experience this was no way to catch such a criminal.

"I'm afraid you and C.J, are going to have be apart until this whole thing is over."

"WHAT?"

He was still digesting all this information about C.J. when John made this absurd suggestion.

"It's the only way."

Matt looked to C.J. for some defense on the matter but she just looked downward, away from his stare.

"C.J. …"

She lifted her head and looked at him somberly.

"I'm sorry Houston."

With that response he knew he had been defeated. But even though The Company had a sterling reputation, none of this plan felt right to him. That old investigator instinct was kicking in – and it was screaming red flag warning loud and clear!

"I just don't know C.J," he said, shaking his head.

"It'll be okay. I promise you. I'll be fine," she said with a confident smile.

"But ... apart from you ... again?"

So that was it.

A few tears looked like they would start in her eyes but she quickly shook them off. It both impressed and annoyed Matt. The woman he used to know didn't seem to be the same. Oh he always thought of her as strong, but now she seemed even more confident, more independent – less like the vulnerable woman who used to need his protection and rescuing.

"Guys, can you give us a minute?"

Marty looked at John and he reluctantly nodded. Matt and C.J. walked out onto to the patio together.

She knew it was a lot to ask of Matt - to stay out of their plan, contain his raw emotions brought on by her thirty-year absence. One part of her agreed with Matt's point of view, the other - the logical part - knew she had no choice.

"I really hate that word," he said as they came to a stop at the wall overlooking the city.

She looked at him puzzled. "What word?"

"Apart."

An appeasing smile started in the upper corner of her lip as she grabbed ahold of his hand. "It'll only be for a little while."

"I know, but … well," he said, squeezing her hand. "Hey, after this case is over, how about you leave this crazy career and this even crazier city and retire. You know, come back to the ranch with me."

Stunned, she looked at him without saying a word. Did Matt Houston just suggest they move in together _and_ utter the word "retire"? She never knew he had it in him! Perhaps he changed over the last thirty years. She certainly did.

While she thought it over he continued his plea.

"We can spend our golden years growing old together, going on horseback rides, spending lots of time in the fresh, open air and making our own schedule. Do anything we want at any time we want, wear jeans and old shirts all day, not caring if we get a little mud on our boots. In the evening we can cuddle up and watch a good movie on the sofa or sit outside and look up at the stars. We can also get all dressed up and go to a fancy restaurant like we used to. I could show you off as we paint the town any color of the rainbow. At night we could fall asleep and wake in the same bed together, get up, have breakfast and start all over again."

The thought of all that made C.J.'s heart warm. Her eyes sparkled with tears.

"I'd like that," she said.

It was all she ever wanted.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Return of Matt Houston - 12/Apart – 15**

Matt woke up in a start, sweating profusely to the sound of the TV. He must have left it on all night, he surmised. But wait. Where was he? He lifted his head and looked around the room, realizing he was in bed … fully dressed ... at the ranch … in California? What was he doing here? Where was C.J.? Last thing he remembered they were talking at her apartment in New York. How did he get here? Did C.J. come with him?

He threw off the covers and immediately jumped out of bed to search for her.

"C.J.? C.J.?"

The panic in his voice continued to rise the louder he yelled. Opening the bathroom door...the bedroom door, he looked about wildly. Her things weren't there. She wasn't there.

Rushing down the hall towards the stairs and kitchen, he worried his reunion with C.J. might have been a dream. He had plenty about her over the years.

Will had arrived shortly before to check up on things and was currently straining his back to bend over something in the kitchen. When he heard Matt, he straightened up.

"Oh, good. You're back," he greeted Matt amicably."Joe couldn't make it today so I told him I'd come by and ..."

"C.J.?" Matt called out again as he ignored Will and pushed right past him.

"Matt?"

"C.J.?" Matt called again as he opened the back door and went outside.

Will hurried up behind him, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Matt! Hold on there!"

"Will," he said breathlessly. "How long have you been here? Did you see C.J.?"

Will looked at him like he had done so many times over the years and shook his head.

"No …"

"No, wait listen. I'm not crazy. I realize that despite me saying so, you still think I am but listen, I was in New York, remember I called you the other morning?"

"Yes …"

"See this lady detective from their SVU squad came and got me... Amanda Rollins. They needed my help on his case. They, meaning her squad and a former client, Butterfly. She convinced me to go back with her. While I was in New York I ran into C.J.! She's been alive all these years! And I found her! And …"

Will heard enough.

"Matt, stop. You had another one of those dreams again."

Matt shook his head emphatically. "No! It wasn't a dream! I'm telling you it was real. We spent two nights together. She had these two co-workers, Marty and John… I wanted to tell you when I called you the other day but she's on this top-secret case and... "

"Matt," Will pleaded, grabbing hold of his arms. "You've been having these kind of dreams on and off for years. C.J.'s dead."

Logic started arguing with Matt's emotions and he sank to a seat.

"She's really not here?"

Will shook his head regretfully.

"I just rode over the whole ranch. There's no one here but you and me."

"But, she has to be here. We were together ..."

"Matt, you were watching one of those cop shows on TV last night when you fell asleep, weren't you?"

Matt seemed to recall something like that.

"It was so real. I could smell her. I could feel her," he recollected as his heart sank.

"Sounds like a very nice dream."

"She told me she faked her death. She parachuted out of the plane with two spies, then let it take a swan dive into the ocean. She went to work for The Company and went by the pseudonym Susan Reeder. She had an apartment in New York that looked just like the old penthouse office. I could picture how she'd look all these years later, how she walked, talked. How brave and resourceful she had become ... even more so then when we worked together. She was tackling a case of human traffickers and crossed paths with Sgt. Benson and her officers. And then, the last two nights we made love…"

"Like the two nights you spent together thirty years ago?"

"Yeah … like those two nights..."

Matt stunned Will by suddenly jumping up.

"I missed her by mere seconds Will! If I had been a minute earlier I could have stopped that damn plane!"

Will closed his eyes and sighed while Matt began feverishly pacing.

"Matt, you've been through this a hundred times. Would you stop beating yourself up?"

"I never should have treated her that way. I never should have dated Elizabeth or any woman after that first night together. How could I have been so stupid!"

"Matt, would you listen to yourself? You've been asking yourself the same questions over and over for 30 years! It won't bring C.J. back!"

Matt knew he needed to hear that, but it stung nonetheless.

"I loved her, Will."

"I know."

"More than anyone in the whole world."

"I know." Will paused, not knowing what else to say. For years he saw the heartache in his cousin's eyes – heartache that never fully went away. He was used to Matt having "episodes" from time to time. He knew in a few days Matt would recover enough to function on at least an average man's level. He never fully regained his pre-C.J.-leaving-form, but at least he managed be a somewhat productive human being.

"C'mon man. Let's have a some breakfast."

What Matt really needed was a stiff drink or two...or three. The dream was so real! But if he could take something positive from the dream, it would be to start taking better care of himself: eat healthier, work out, get in shape, lose weight. It would make C.J. proud. After all on this morning even his side hurt. Oh he's had back pain, knee pain and shoulder pain from various outdoor activities and old injuries, but not his side. Was he so out of shape that his muscles hurt just from sleeping in one position for too long?

He took a hand to his side and winced as he pressed on the skin.

"Ouch!"

Will saw Matt grimacing and looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong?"

He lifted up his shirt and saw the evidence: a deep scar forming in the middle of some very angry looking bruises.

"What's that from?" he quizzed.

"A flesh wound…" Matt answered under his breath, the wheels in his brain clicking in gear.

"What?"

Matt's mood suddenly changed, elation present in his tone.

"A flesh wound! I was shot! On the streets of New York! You can ask Sgt. Benson. It was right at the time I discovered C.J.!"

"What?" Will asked again, even more puzzled.

Matt pounded his fist onto the closest hard surface - a patio table, his mood changing dramatically.

"Those asses! They said they had to move me, that is was too dangerous for me to stay at the apartment. They must have drugged me and sent me back here. Boy, when I get my hands on them!"

Will was feeling perplexed and confused by this point.

"Wait, Matt, this sounds ridiculous. You went to New York and saw C.J…. and you were shot, drugged…?"

Matt ignored his questions.

"Did anyone see me come back last night?"

Will wasn't sure and shook his head.

"I've got to get back to New York," he said as he started for the door. "C.J. may need me."

Will protested, chasing after his cousin as he reentered the house. "Matt! Wait! C'mon, man. Sit down, have some breakfast. Would you listen to yourself? Let's talk about this."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Matt, really? You were summoned to New York to help with a case, saw C.J., were shot… Even you have to admit, it is a crazy story."

Matt stared him right in the eyes.

"Just like believing you were alive in Cambodian jungle for twelve years?"

He had him there.

"C'mon, Matt. This is different."

"Is it?"

Will didn't know what to think or say. Was Matt going crazy or did he really find C.J.?

He let out an obvious sigh. "I guess the only way to know is to go to New York with you and find out for myself."


	13. Chapter 13

**The Return of Matt Houston - 13/Apart – 16**

As soon as they landed at Kennedy International, they hailed a cab to the precinct. Matt didn't know where else to start except there. He had no contact information on Marty, John or C.J.

When he walked into the precinct he thought he'd get some immediate validation. After all, Amanda, Olivia or any of the other detectives would recognize him as soon as they saw him, greet him with a hearty "Houston!" and Will would apologize for ever doubting Matt.

Well that's what he _thought_ would happen.

"May we help you?" Amanda Rollins asked as soon as they walked in.

"Amanda! Hi! I'd like you to meet my cousin Will."

She shot him a peculiar glare.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Very funny. Amanda, it's me, Houston. This is my …"

She raised an eyebrow and looked around for assistance at the same time Olivia opened her office door.

"Sgt. Benson. I think these gentlemen are here to see you."

Olivia looked at Matt and Will curiously as she walked towards them.

"Can I help you?"

Matt looked at her suspiciously.

"What's going on around here? Is this some kind of joke? Did someone from The Company tell you not to acknowledge me if I should end up back in town? That's it, isn't it?"

"Uh, why don't we talk in here," she suggested, urging Matt and his cousin to enter her office.

Matt and Will glanced at one another then followed her into her office. As soon as they were in the room, they watched her close the blinds on her windows and shut the door.

Matt stood with his arms folded, ready to go on the attack while Will played the role of dubious observer.

"Olivia, what the hell is going on?" Matt asked.

She was about to answer when the door to the adjoining room opened and Marty and John walked in. Matt swung around and found himself in a very strange position: glad to see them.

"Well, look who it is. Will, these are the 'men' who work with C.J. Where is she?" he asked bluntly.

They glanced at one another, deciding whether or not to entertain his question. They weren't too pleased to see _him_.

"Well?" asked Matt again, growing impatient.

"What are you doing here?"

"I asked first. Where's C.J.?"

John glanced at Marty again and took a deep breath. He knew Matt wouldn't like what he had to say.

"We don't know," John offered.

"WHAT?"

"We've lost contact. We haven't heard from her in over 24 hours."

Matt lunged at John, whose only crime at the moment was delivering bad news. Marty jumped in front of him while Olivia and Will grabbed his arms.

"Houston! Hold on a second!" Olivia commanded. "You're not going to solve any thing this way! Houston! Why don't you let him explain?"

Matt gritted his teeth, fighting every urge to rip John apart with his bare hands while Will was aghast with everything he had just witnessed. This trio of people before him seemed to know Matt. If that was the case then Matt's crazy story was true and ... and ... C.J. was alive!

"I should listen to them?" he said with his eyes angled at John. "They drugged me and put me on a plane to L.A.!"

John and Marty stood firm, refusing to react to his accusation.

"Did you really think I'd stay away? That I wouldn't figure it out? Well?"

Olivia placed a calming hand on Matt's arm.

"Houston. Give them a moment."

Matt locked eyes with Will who he seemed to be seeking approval on some level with.

"Let him talk, Matt. What have you got to lose?"

Matt took a few seconds, trying to think rationally. The more information he got, the better chance of getting C.J. back...

"Okay", he said, still breathing hard. "I'm listening. Talk fast."

John let out a sigh before speaking.

"We did know her exact location for the first 24 hours she was in Whitewood's camp. You see, all Company members have a chip implanted under their skin," he explained, pushing up his sleeve to show the imprint of his. "That way whereabouts are always known. We can monitor her every move. Hers was in her left side – just beneath the skin and well-hidden from her enemies. She could use it to access communication even if her phone battery was dead. It was almost like a walking wi-fi, a science project conjured up by the crazy, computer geeks in The Company. It's come in handy a couple of times on various cases."

Matt was almost afraid to ask. "But you've lost contact. How is that possible?"

"Her chip must have been deactivated."

"Deactivated?" asked Will.

"I'm probably gonna hate myself for asking this but what's the only way to deactivate a chip?" dared Matt.

"Surgery," John answered point blank. "Or …"

"Or?" Matt started to ask, waiting for John to finish when it hit him. "Do you mean to tell me that they would just remove it without …?"

"Yes."

"God!"

Matt walked away running his hand through his hair in frustration, trying to absorb the bad news while Will was processing everything that had transpired. He traversed a gamut of emotions in a mere three minutes and was doing only mildly better than his cousin.

"But that doesn't mean we should jump to conclusions. We're doing everything we can at the moment. I'm afraid a lot is up to Sunflower, I mean C.J.," offered Marty. "And she's good."

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan," noted Will, taking on the role of Matt's advocate.

"You can say that again," chimed a regrouped Matt.

"Well, we really don't have much of a choice. Patience is the only way we'll catch the ring leaders."

"I don't care about Whitewood and Cody or anyone else at this point! I've waited thirty years to be with C.J. I can't lose her again!"

The fire in Matt's eyes quieted the room for a few moments. No one knew what to say... no one except Olivia. Perhaps a woman had the best chance to redirect the focus for a man like Matt Houston.

"Well, do you at least have an idea where she could be?"

Marty shrugged. "Could be anywhere in the city."

Matt fumed silently for a moment while images of C.J. and what she could be enduring flashed through his mind. He's gotten her out of tight situations in the past, was this time really any different? He searched his memory, remembering what he did in such situations: used his instincts, _trusted_ his instincts and carried them out with the kind of fervor he was famous for.

"C.J. said that Whitewood and Cody wouldn't rest until I was dead and buried."

"What are you saying, Matt?" asked Will.

"That we go on the offensive, use me as bait, flush them out."

"WHAT? No, we can't do that!" John argued.

"Why not?"

"You're not a Company member, for one, you're out of shape, untrained and an emotional loose canon. Need I go on?"

Poor excuses, Matt thought. A real hero wouldn't look for excuses. Will was thinking the same thing too, silently rooting for Matt. Rescuing C.J. was his specialty. If anyone could do it, it'd be Matt.

"Look folks. If there is one thing I've learned it's that you can't live life according to the dictates of others, wait for other people to make the first move, waste time. If we're gonna get C.J. back we've got to act immediately, change the rules."

"But it's too dangerous," Olivia said.

Matt looked Olivia right in the eye.

"I don't care. My life is of no importance."

His bold statement caught even Will by surprise.

"After what I've been through, do any of you really expect me to live without C.J. again? Huh?"

The intensity in his voice spoke volumes.

"But it's risky. You both could die," Olivia stated.

"Well, that would be a blessing, wouldn't it? Neither one of us would have to grieve for the other."


	14. Chapter 14

**The Return of Matt Houston - 14/Apart – 17**

She felt life slipping away. The wound in her side hurt like hell. She was even starting to hallucinate. She had to be. She was hearing Matt's voice and she knew he wasn't anywhere near. Marty and John probably shipped him back to California, far away from where she needed him to be so there's no way it could actually be him in the flesh. She must have wished it so much that she was imagining it. But yet she couldn't shake the sound of his voice. Was her mind slowly deteriorating, an omen of a long, painful death? Would Matt have to grieve twice for her? No, Matt didn't deserve that. He loved her. Truly. Deeply. Madly. She had to keep her wits about her, fight to the end so she could live out the remaining years of her life with him! Focus on the warm California sun, the days spent riding horses, sleeping late and having brunch at one o'clock in the afternoon. All with Matt.

Oh but it's so hard to think of all that in this dank cold room. She was bear tired, fatigued, really. And the floor below was anything but comfortable. A bare floor no less. If she could make over to the couch at least she'd be more comfortable.

But that might cause her to lose more blood. And at this point she needed every ounce of it for strength to survive. What if she inched over to the sofa bit by bit, somehow refraining from accelerating her pulse, rest awhile in between attempts? Yes, maybe that would work. It would certainly give her something to do instead of just lying on the damn floor.

It took her two minutes just to rollover to her right side, grimacing in pain as she kept a hand pressed on her left side. The pressure would stop the blood flow – it would also help if she could elevate her torso.

When she accomplished that small feat, she briefly congratulated herself. Then she took a deep breath and started reaching with her right hand, dragging her body on the hard wood floor as she crept closer to the sofa.

She heard Matt's voice again, but this time louder. It had to be real! She stopped and practically held her breath to tune into his words.

"_If anyone has seen this woman, knows anything of her whereabouts, please contact Manhattan SVU right away," he stated as he held up an 8 x 10 inch photo. _

"_Mr. Houston, any chance you'll be putting up a monetary reward?" someone in the press asked. They had done their homework on the formerly well-known businessman/detective and knew he came from money._

_Matt glanced at Sgt. Benson a moment before responding._

"_If we receive the information we need to save her, I'll write a check for a million dollars."_

"_A million?" the reported asked. _

"_Yes. A million... or two. I'll do anything to get my C.J, I mean, my partner back."_

_The reporters and everyone watching sensed a very interesting back story._

"_Were you_ _and Ms. Parsons an item once?" another reporter dared._

_Matt thought the question was odd and turned to Olivia._

"_The more drama, the more interest. Run with it," she whispered._

"_We were everything to each other: best friends, business partners, lovers. Due to some unique circumstances, we've been apart for thirty years, during which time I nearly went crazy missing her. All I want is to have her safe in my arms again. I love C.J. Parsons more than anyone in the whole world."_

_The reporters busily wrote notes on their memo pads as a multitude of cameras flashed._

_"So if you get your partner back, does this mean you'll be a private detective again?" another reporter asked._

_Matt took a moment, digesting the question. It sure would be nice to work with her by his side again … if he was thirty years younger._

"_First things first. I need to get her back safe and sound. That's my only priority."_

She blinked several times, trying to process everything she heard at the same time as melting at his public admission. It sounded like a press conference of some sort, possibly coming from a TV somewhere. Where was a TV? And furthermore, was Matt in New York? If that was the case, she had to hang on! She knew at any moment he could be there! Nothing would stop him!

* * *

Matt and Will set up camp so to speak at Manhattan SVU. They would be there as the tip phone lines set up as they waited for hopefully more clues. Marla joined them, wanting to help as much as she could. She felt somewhat responsible for the mess Matt and C.J. were in.

It was a busy scene, with detectives scurrying about the office, phones constantly ringing. It seems everybody and their brother wanted to play some part in reuniting the long-lost lovers. Social media and the TV news were abuzz with the great saga of Matt and C.J. The public attention was a bit overwhelming for some of the over-worked officers, but not Matt. He saw it as a good sign. The more publicity, the more chance Cody and Whitewood would know he was in town. It would only be a matter of time until they'd come after him. The trap was set.

They almost didn't notice a man enter the office. One would think he would've stood out, for it seemed he was the only one standing still.

"Hello?" he called out, hoping someone would acknowledge him. "Is this the SVU office that's looking for C.J. Parsons?"

Amanda pulled the phone away from her ear and looked his way his way briefly.

"Yes it is."

"I'm an old friend of C.J.'s, actually Matt Houston and C.J.'s. Is he here?"

Amanda feverishly scanned the room for someone who was available.

"Ah, hold on a second. Fin, can you get Houston out here? There's someone here to see him."

Matt was in the midst of a deep discussion – actually argument - in Olivia's office. Fin could hear the voices escalating in volume the closer he got to her office.

"I still say you're making a big mistake," stated John.

Matt didn't flinch.

"Of course you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't like anything I have to say. I could possess the cure for cancer and you still would disagree with me. And you talk about my judgment being clouded? How about you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jealousy."

"Jealousy?"

"Uh huh. You're jealous of me."

John's eyes grew large as he let out a hearty laugh. "Jealous of you? You've got to be kidding!"

"No I'm not. You and C.J. had a fling once, am I right?"

John was shocked into speechlessness … which spoke volumes.

"I see. So I am right. And you can't stand it, can you? You can't stand that C.J. loves me. And you can't stand it that I know more about how to deal with the goons who took her than you."

Olivia couldn't tell who was about to throw the first punch so she intercepted before it could happen. It seemed like she was doing a lot of that lately.

"Ah, fellas? Can we …"

Too late.

"Why don't we step outside and take care of this once and for all, huh? Find out who the better man is. I'm sure there's a vacant alley somewhere nearby," Matt suggested while working his knuckles. Hard.

Will shook his head.

"Matt, how will this help C.J., huh?'

"It'll get him off my back!" he said with gritted teeth. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think John-boy here was trying to prevent me rescuing her!"

"Oh now you're really reaching!"

Olivia and Will rolled their eyes simultaneously just as Fin interrupted.

"Ah, excuse me … Houston?"

Matt kept a deep stare on his opponent and reluctantly answered Fin.

"What is it?"

"Someone's here to see you."


	15. Chapter 15

**The Return of Matt Houston - 15/Apart – 18**

Even though Matt was involved in an intense discussion, his curiosity got the better of him when Detective Tutuolo announced he had a guest. Okay, that and he also was looking for a way out. His guest had to be better company than that of Marty and John, maybe even someone who could help rescue C.J.

When he walked out of her office and came face to face with a man about his age, hairless, with a tailored suit and frameless glasses, he knew his prayers had been answered.

"Murray! Is that you? My God! How the hell are ya?"

"Houston! I couldn't believe my eyes … or ears when I saw that press conference on the TV! What's this business about C.J. being alive?" he exclaimed, as Matt gave him a quick hug/slap on the back.

"It's true, it's really true. At least she was the last time I saw her."

"I just can't believe it. All those years I thought you …"

He saw the look on Matt's face and immediately paused.

"You thought what? That I was going crazy?" Matt offered effortlessly.

Murray swallowed hard. "Yeah."

Matt let out a short chuckle. "Well, you weren't the only one. Hell, if I had a friend who acted like me, I might have thought the same thing."

"Who's behind this?"

Matt took a quick glance around. "Why don't we talk in here."

Murray nodded and followed him into Olivia's office. He came face to face with a unique quartet of people.

"Hey Murray!" Will greeted heartily as soon as he saw him.

"Will!"

"Who's this?" Marty immediately asked.

"Murray Chase. He's an old friend and colleague of Matt's. He took over Houston Industries back in '83. Murray, this is Sgt. Benson, head of Manhattan SVU and this is Marty and John. They're with The Company."

"The Company?" he exclaimed. "Well I guess that would explain a few things. Nice to meet you," he said as he extended his hand to each. "So who's behind this? Who's got C.J.?" he asked again.

"Cord Cody and Nick Whitewood," Matt answered simply.

Murray thought about their names a moment.

"Oh, yes," he commented, until the realization set in. "Oh no!"

"I'm afraid so."

"Anything I can do to help, anything at all, Big Guy? I have a lot of contacts in Manhattan. Money's no object."

Murray Chase had become quite the success story after parting ways with Matt years ago. He took Houston Industries into the next century, buying stock in companies that catered to things people couldn't live without: cell phones. It garnered him three man of the year awards by Money Magazine.

"Thank you. Well for now, stay close. I have an idea."

"An idea?" John interrupted. "I don't suppose you'd like to share this idea with us?"

Matt made a face. "No, not really. Not unless you'd like to actually rescue C.J. instead of standing around here talking about it."

John gritted his teeth.

"Of course we want to rescue her."

"Then you're going to have to trust me, follow my plan to the letter. Can you do that?"

John rubbed the back of his neck and let out a tremendous sigh.

"I'm probably going to hate myself in the morning for saying this … but … what's your plan?"

"I'm gonna get a room at the uptown Marriott … in my name. If Cody and Whitewood want me, I'm gonna make it easy for them. They can just come and get me. The second they show up, Murray, Will and I will be waiting for them. We'll force them to tell us where C.J. is. After that you can do what you want with them."

"You call that a plan? Sounds like suicide to me!"

"I know it's risky but it's the only way at this point."

"Risky?" John half-chuckled. "You don't seem to know who you're dealing with here! These goons have probably upped their game plan even as we speak. And they have connections with even bigger goons out of your league!"

Matt countered John's booming criticism by lowering his voice and staring directly into his eyes.

"Well I've never been one to shy away from challenges. I say we best get moving. The sooner we get out of here the sooner we can save C.J."

* * *

_The next day …_

Will sat next to her bedside, waiting for her to wake up, shaking his head.

Her skin tone was paler then he remembered and there were some subtle signs of aging. But all in all, she looked like the remarkable woman he remembered: strong, attractive, intelligent. It would be good to have her back among the living again. Once she awakened he had a few questions for her. Wait a minute, who was he kidding? This is C.J. Parsons: Harvard law school magna cum laude graduate, former F. Lee Bailey clerk, former partner of one of the best investigative firms in the country, member of the elite Company. She'd have a few questions for him ... especially after she realized Matt wasn't there!

The situation reminded Will of when he was rescued from Cambodia and Matt lost his friend Too Mean Malone along the way. Yes Will deserved to be safe back home but the fact that someone else had to die as a result subdued the celebration. Could the same thing be happening between Matt and C.J.? Would her reunion be tainted with tragedy? Would it be her turn to grieve for Matt?

"C.J. God. Can't believe this. All these years… all these years I thought you were dead and my poor cousin was going crazy."

She started rousing, blinking several times, adjusting to the light. He saw the hue in her eyes and an opportunity to ease her into consciousness.

"C.J." he said, his eyes intense with caring anticipation. "Take your time. You're in a hospital. You had surgery. You're gonna be just fine… in time."

She tried to make out the figure before her. His voice sounded familiar.

"Houston?" she asked. Of course that was the first word out of her mouth. So much for stalling a conversation about Matt…

"Well technically, yes. But you probably mean Matt… and … uh… well he's uh … he's not here… at the moment. But I am. Do you remember me?"

She wasn't prepared for that response and had to adjust her mindset to answer her guest's question. She blinked some more, focusing on his face, especially his eyes. Will couldn't tell what she was thinking but he hoped the distraction of his question would give him a few minutes to figure out how he was going to tell her that Matt's plan didn't go quite as expected. It seemed to work because she was silent for some time, just staring at him. Between thirty years of maturity and her physical condition it was taking her awhile to put a name with a face.

And then all of a sudden it hit her.

"Will?"

He nodded. "Hey there, gorgeous."

"Will?" she asked again, emotion creeping into her voice.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Oh Will!" she exclaimed, just before bursting into tears.

Not knowing what to do, he reached out, grabbed hold of her hand and nervously stumbled the first words that came to mind.

"Hey there. Take it easy."

"Will…" she repeated, emotion preventing her from saying too much more. She missed Will but most of all his presence reminded her of his father, all the time they spent working together… and how she grieved when she heard he had died. She never had the chance to say goodbye. She never had the chance to offer her condolences to Matt or Will.

He shook his head.

"I must say. You found a way to top me. Being assumed dead for thirty years must have been a hell of a lot harder than my twelve year stint."

She tried to laugh.

"Oh Will. I'm so sorry. For what I put you through, especially your dad."

"It's okay. I'm sure you were just doing what you had to do. I'm just so glad you're back. Matt's been a real handful the last thirty years. I could really use your help."

"I'm sure," she said, appreciating his humor, trying to swallow her tears. "Is he in the waiting room?" she asked, scanning the room with great concern in her eyes.

Will reluctantly answered her question.

"No..."

No? No? How could that be? She remembered being carried and loaded into a vehicle of some sort - maybe it was an ambulance. They were voices … male voices … and they were familiar to her. Surely Matt was one of the voices. He had to be. She was in a hospital … which meant she had been rescued… which meant that Matt had been there. But where was he now? It wasn't like him to apart from her at such a time!

"Where's Matt?" she asked again. "Where is he?" her voice increasing in intensity and volume.

With absolutely no idea how to tell her, Will didn't answer but looked down at his hands… which spoke volumes.

"They've got him, don't they?"

He reluctantly nodded.

"I'm sorry C.J."

She bit her lip and released a tear.

"God!"


	16. Chapter 16

**The Return of Matt Houston - 16/Apart – 19**

As soon as Olivia entered the room and saw C.J. awake, she smiled. It was a great relief to see her among the living – she was close to dead when they found her earlier. But as she neared closer to her, she saw the angst C.J. wore on her face. It was telling. She erased her smile, turned and looked at Will.

"She knows?"

He shrugged. "I tried to avoid it or at least stall … but ah … C.J. always was too smart for me."

Not only was she smart, she didn't like to waste time.

"Olivia, what exactly happened?" she asked, bypassing pleasantries.

Olivia pulled up a chair and began recounting the events that transpired earlier.

"Houston set up a trap to catch Whitewood and Cody's men by egging them onto his hotel room. They fell for it … sort of. Houston was prepared for them, even got them to reveal where they were keeping you. But then they got away. Marty and John went after them while Houston went after you. He found you in an old house near the South Street Seaport. That's when we got the call. We showed up, the ambulance showed up, and we all thought he was in the clear. He was right behind you when the medics were loading you on a gurney. All of a sudden, Cody and Whitewood's men pulled up in a van, jumped out, held a gun to his head and absconded with him."

C.J. eyes grew to the same size Will saw earlier.

"You let those goons kidnap Houston right in front of your very eyes?!"

"It all happened so fast."

"I can't believe this!" she exclaimed, obviously agitated.

"C.J.," Will started. "Don't get too upset. It's not good for you."

"Don't get too upset? Will!" she fired back, leering at him and stunning him in the process. The old C.J. he knew was softer, nicer. This one seemed to have hardened over time - much like her current expression.

Olivia intervened. "He's right. I know it's hard but we should be concentrating our efforts on other things."

She sighed. "I just can't believe this. If anything happens to Houston… " she started, showing her more vulnerable side.

"C.J.," Olivia interrupted, trying to refocus the conversation. "You've been working on this case for years. Do you have any idea where they could have taken him?"

She shook her head.

"None that I could describe or even pin point on a map. They have so many hideouts, and they're constantly changing locales. But I sure have an idea what they're doing to Houston. And when we do find him, I'm worried what kind of shape he'll be in… _if_ we find him alive."

Olivia and Will swallowed that information as best they could.

"Okay, well moving forward, do you have any ideas what to do next?"

C.J. sat back against her pillow and thought.

"Nothing you can do...unless..."

She paused a moment, her eyes dancing back and forth, until her eyes suddenly lit up, as if an idea popped in her head.

"What?" Olivia asked, reacting to C.J.'s expression.

"Whitewood has a shipment of slaves that are supposed to be exchanged at midnight on Wednesday."

"Okay that's tomorrow."

"It's a long shot but if we get enough man power and time it just right, we may be able to trap them, make us lead them to Houston. They'll be less protective of him as they'll be preoccupied."

"Okay, where's the exchange supposed to happen?"

"I can't describe the exact location, but I can lead you there."

Will's eyes grew large and quickly chimed in. "Lead them there? C.J., you're not going anywhere in the shape you're in!"

She looked squarely at Will, still pale and weak. "We don't have a choice. It's the only way."

He continued his protest. "C.J. look at you! You almost died! You were on that operating table for three hours! You lost a lot of blood! They said it would take days if not weeks for you to fully recuperate!"

Without presence of emotion she looked Will straight in the eyes.

"I can do it. I have to do it."

"C.J. …"

"Will…" she said as she locked eyes with him touched his hand. "It'll be okay. Even if it's the last thing I do. I have to do this."

He took a long look at her, staring at her face and then looking to Olivia for help. C.J. had a fierce look of determination, the same determination Olivia used to right a few hundred wrongs in her career. She didn't have a good argument against her, in fact, if she was in her shoes, she'd probably do the same.

She answered Will with a shrug.

* * *

C.J. set her plans in motion and in the process, had a long talk with her body. Get better. That's an order. She had exactly 35 hours to be in tip-top shape. She would follow a strict regimen, rest as much as possible, meditate, eat the most nutritious meals. Protein, protein, protein! She had Will bring her some health food in addition to summoning her favorite non-traditional health guru, Hoki, who sold her herbs at the local farmer's market and offered nutrition advice on the side.

Marty and John were executing their well-honed spy skills as they turned over every possible lead, trying to locate Houston. They knew if they didn't, they'd have to answer to their longtime associate. For John especially – even though he would never display such emotional attributes, he didn't want to see his Sunflower's heart broken. He witnessed it one time too many.

Matt's friends were doing their part, setting aside thirty years on judging him as crazy, vowing to do anything and everything possible in order to reunite him and C.J. To further assist the situation, due to widespread media attention, it seemed everyone in the city wanted to be the one to reunite the soul mates.

Murray was working round the clock ever since C.J. was rescued, making phone calls, calling in favors and basically buying the man power they needed. He entered her hospital room late the next evening, anxious to not only inform her of his progress first-hand, but to talk to her in the flesh for the first time in thirty years. He swung open the door, burst in the room and was already three words into his first sentence when he froze in his tracks.

"Murray?" she asked, recognizing him almost immediately.

He didn't respond and just stared at her – like he was looking at a ghost.

"Murray, is that really you?" she asked again.

"C… C… C… J," he attempted, too shocked to speak coherently.

"Murray … " she said again, this time with a big smile on her face. "It's so good to see you."

He caught his manners, walked closer to her bedside and took hold of her outstretched hands, all the while staring at her.

She made a face.

"Murray …"

"S…s…s…orry C…C…J. Gosh I can't believe I'm saying that. I mean you … you…" He gulped, catching himself again. "You're alive! You're really alive!"

She frowned.

"It's not gonna mean spit if they kill Houston."

He nodded, determined to get past her health status and report what he came here for.

"No, it's not. But we're not gonna let that happen. Will said you can lead us to their hideout. Are you ready?"

"Am _I_ ready? Are you leading the cavalry?"

He nodded and tapped a special watch on his arm.

"Houston and I have been in constant communication since yesterday morning."

"You have? Is he okay?"

He nodded assertively. "He's in complete control of the situation."

"He is?!"

"And I've hired my own posse of men, experts in their field. As soon as you can ascertain Houston's location and that shipment of slaves, we'll arrest the person behind all this, free those girls and get Houston back safe and sound."

C.J looked at him incredulously.

"How …?"

"Money not only talks and walks it moved mountains. I've hired several contractors who are experts in the field of dangerous rescues. Between your company members, the SVU squad and them, we'll get Houston and you back together once and for all."


	17. Chapter 17

**The Return of Matt Houston -17/Apart – 20**

Matt kept his gun trained on the two employees of Cody and Whitewood, or Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, as he recently dubbed them. Sitting behind them in their van, he had turned the tables on them shortly after they kidnapped him. They were barely out of their twenties and hadn't heard of the great private detective Matt Houston. They didn't know the talents he possessed. They also didn't know he was the type of guy who wouldn't rest, do anything in his power until his enemies were behind bars, and the case was wrapped up with an iron-clad ribbon.

Soon he'd be in the presence of Whitewood and Cody, and they would lead him to whoever was in charge. Thirty underage girls' lives were at risk and he wouldn't live with himself if his only accomplishment was to get away alive. C.J. was in the best medical hands and she was safe. So he accomplished his first goal. Now he had to finish what she started, nab the scum behind it all. She worked too long too hard to just let them get away. He had to honor her efforts.

He glanced at his watch.

"You said that shipment of slaves is at midnight? It's almost 11:30. How much farther is it?"

The driver smirked at his partner, refusing to answer.

"Oh, what's the matter, Tweedle Dum, cat got your tongue?" Matt said, cocking his gun and putting it next to the man's head.

The man swallowed hard but continued on with his stock answer. "You'll find out soon enough."

Matt didn't like his answer and hit him on the side of the head with the gun, causing him and the van to jerk quickly.

"Ow!" the man yelled.

"Want to try that again?"

The driver scowled, regained his grip on the wheel and turned into an alley. At the end of the alley was a dock.

"Happy? We're here," Tweedle Dee announced as soon as the van stopped.

Matt pressed a button and spoke into his electronic device.

"Okay, Murray. We've stopped. Pinpoint my location and I'll be waiting for you."

Matt's message went directly to C.J.'s ears, as she was sitting next to Murray in the special bullet and bomb proof van he had arranged for them.

"Ask him to describe his locale," she asked Murray.

Murray relayed. "Describe the area."

"We turned into an alley. There's a dock at the end."

C. J. had an idea of the locale and typed an address into their navigation device. They had used it several months ago to make an exchange. She and Will watched the screen, waiting for Matt's signal to appear on the radar.

All of a sudden a small red dot blinked on the screen … and then it blinked faster and faster.

"We've got him," C.J. announced. "Turn left at the end of this road. The alley he's talking about should only be about eight blocks away."

At the same time, her text signal went off. She looked down at the screen.

"Where R U?" it read.

She hadn't told John or Marty her plans. They weren't part of the conversation where she insisted she'd go along to find Matt. Maybe their reaction wouldn't be too hard to handle via text.

"In a van by dock on 21st St," she typed.

"WHAT?" John immediately typed back.

"Houston's here. Exchange very soon. Get here yesterday."

He didn't text back and she could only imagine what he was thinking. Knowing her long-time colleague well, he probably rolled his eyes and grumbled a few swear words under his breath before putting his SVU in high-gear. As much as he'd love to debate her right now, he knew there wasn't a second to waste.

Matt kept his eyes trained on the scene around him, frequently glancing in the background and catching glimpses of Murray, Olivia and their posse. When he caught a glimpse of C.J. he did a double take. What on earth was she doing here? The last time he saw her she was unconscious.

He whispered into his watch-like device. "Murray, is that C.J. I see with you?"

"Yes."

"What is she doing here?"

"She insisted on coming, lead us to you."

Okay, he thought. Guiding the others to his location was one thing, but hanging out in some alley with a bunch of ne'er do wells and a squadron of trigger-happy heroes when she was close to death a day prior? Oh but wait. This was C.J. he was talking about. Knowing her well – how determined she could be (his equal in that regard), how intelligent and resourceful she was, he wasn't worried. Maybe he should have been.

She climbed out of the car, leading Murray's and Olivia's posse as Marty and John arrived. John didn't look happy.

"When this is over remind me to give you a lecture about putting your health above your job!" he whispered intently.

She responded with a simple roll of her eyes.

* * *

They hid behind the corner of the building, watching for the action. C.J. could spot Matt pacing, waiting. The goons that kidnapped him didn't seem to be around. Thank God he was alive like Murray said.

"Alright, spread out," John ordered. "Murray, take your men and cover the dock. Make sure you get everything, and I do mean everything on tape. Sgt. Benson, take your men and block the alley. Sunflower …" he started, then noticed her deteriorating physical condition.

"Sunflower? Are you alright?"

She looked quite pale and distracted, like she was fighting some internal ailment.

"I ... uh ... I..." she relayed in between telling her body to hang tough.

"Sunflower?" he asked again.

She really wanted to answer but her body compelled her to do otherwise.

"C.J.!" he called out in a loud whisper, catching her as her body went limp. He scooped her up in his arms and decided he had no choice but to take her back to the SUV.

* * *

Seconds later a limo turned into the alley. Right behind it was a large truck. Matt radioed back to Murray.

"My guess the bigwigs are in the limo. The girls are in the truck."

"Okay. Better get out of view. Everybody, get your cameras rolling."

The limo opened up and Cord Cody climbed out. He was looking for his contact. Matt stepped into view.

"What is he doing!?" exclaimed Marty.

Murray didn't know and answered with a shrug.

"You lookin' for me?" teased Matt to Cody.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Matt Houston. Do you know how easy it would for me to kill you right now?"

"But you're not going to, are you? Or at least not until your boss shows up, so that you and Whitewood can get your dough. Who's your boss anyway?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Soon enough, huh? That's what one of your amateurs said too."

"First we get the dough and then you get what's comin' to ya."

"Comin' to me? You know, I killed your father in self-defense. You probably would have done the same."

"Self-defense hell!"

"It's true."

"According to you. There were no witnesses. No way to know the truth."

"Yes but unlike yourself I'm a man of my word. And your father was a murderer. He deserved to die."

He laughed. "What? For killing that old wildcat? He wasn't anybody. He wasn't even worth the money to bury him."

Infuriated, Matt set his jaw. That old wildcat was Virgil Wade ... his father.

A man climbed out of the limo distracting Matt's attention. It was Whitewood. Elderly now, with a noticeable drag in his walk, he nonetheless adjusted his tie like he was king of the world.

"St. Nick," Matt murmured.

"Houston…" he said just before another man climbed out of the limo.

As he approached slowly, straightening up, it only took Matt seconds to identify him.

"Duval…"


	18. Chapter 18

**The Return of Matt Houston - 18/Apart – 21**

John opened up the van and climbed in with C.J. in his arms. She was so pale he hoped it was just a matter of her needing to be horizontal for a few minutes to reset her blood pressure.

Keeping tabs on the radio chatter, he relayed a message to Marty.

"As soon as he gets them to confess, move in before they can do anything to Houston. As much as I dislike the guy, I don't want him hurt. I'd have to answer to Sunflower if he goes down."

"Okay," he responded, distracted, curious. He witnessed his partner take a very weak-looking C.J. away just moments earlier. He wondered if she was hurt or injured.

"How is Sunflower? Is she alright?"

John glanced down at her noticeably pale face and smoothed his hand along it.

"She passed out. Her blood pressure must have dropped. I'll stay with her, hopefully she'll come to in a few minutes."

Back on the dock, Matt was staring down his nemesis.

"I should've known it'd be you behind all this, Duval. What, you got tired of training terrorists and waging wars and decided to stoop to an all new low?"

He shrugged. "I've softened in my old age."

"Softened? More like sickened. Kidnapping and grooming underaged girls for sex? There's only one place for scum like you."

"Prison? That didn't work."

"No. I was thinking of another place. But first things first: where are they Duval, the girls? What'd you do with them?"

"Like I'm going to tell you."

"Might as well? You're going to kill me anyway."

* * *

C.J. started rousing and immediately tried to get her bearings.

"Where… where…?"

"You're in the van. You collapsed," answered John.

"How long have I been out?"

"About five minutes."

All of a sudden they heard what sounded like gunfire on the radio. John immediately pressed a button.

"What's going on, Froggie?"

No answer.

"Marty! What's happening?"

A long pause ensued until Marty finally radioed back.

"They've got Houston."

That was all C.J. needed to hear.

She fought to sit up.

"Wait, hold on," John urged her.

But she wasn't listening to him. She pulled out a small liquid container out of her pocket, opened it and swallowed its contents.

"What's that?"

"My emergency supply fuel," she quipped.

"Let me guess: Hoki?"

"Yep. Now help me get to the dock. It's time for my Academy Award performance."

* * *

She set her microphone on, straightened her hidden vest, and marched right into the impromptu meeting.

"Well, well, well gentlemen. I see you're finally all together. Where are the girls?"

"In an unmarked van, just as you asked, Ms. Parsons."

Matt swung around and stared directly at her. It seemed C.J. was playing the role of double agent again. Okay, he thought. I'll go along with it.

"I see you've got Houston," she said, with her eyes trained on Matt.

"Yes."

She turned and leered at them.

"Hopefully you won't lose him like last time."

"We won't."

"You bet your life you won't."

And with that, the seasoned crime fighter, despite her various ailments, and despite her innate love for her lifelong best friend, brought her left knee viciously up into contact with Matt's gut. As Matt let out a brief exclamation over the surprise violence, she left him no room to move as her clenched fists furiously came down on the back of his head.

He went down. Hard.

She brushed her hands against each other.

"Now, fellas, let's get the girls and finalize the exchange ..."

Marty and John knew it time to make their move. So did Olivia and Murray. Just when C.J. caught a glimpse of her backup committee, she did an about face.

"Hold it. I've changed my mind."

"What?"

"You heard me," she said just as she pressed a button on her electronic device and pulled out her gun.

Matt laid on the ground, starting to rouse. His head was spinning like crazy, his eyes were blurry and there was a massive pain emanating from his groin but he thought he could make out C.J. standing about 12 feet to the right with her gun cocked and aimed. Looking to the left he saw an assailant aiming and ready to shoot.

C.J. was the intended target.

No! A voice inside him screamed. He aimed his gun, difficult because his vision was impaired. His arm shook and he fought to steady it. Finally a moment of clarity happened and he pulled the trigger.

The shooter went limp.

C.J. fell to the ground.

Matt passed out.

* * *

"Matt! Matt!" he heard a voice say.

He was foggy to say the least. He wasn't sure where he was, whether he was completely conscious or not.

He looked towards the source of the voice. "Will?"

"I see you took another blow to the head."

He touched a sharp pain in the back of his head. "Ouch!"

Will shook his head. "It's amazing you're talking to me right now. With all the injuries to your noggin over the years, I'm surprised you can do basic math … or can you?"

"Very funny."

"Which one of the bad guys gave it to you?"

"None."

"None? Well how'd you get it then? Did you fall or something?"

But Matt didn't answer his question. One would think it was because of his bruised pride, having succumbed a physical assault from a woman, let alone C.J. But he actually gave up his machismo pride years ago. It happened somewhere in between his broken heart and his broken body. Both had endured years of abuse.

"Will, we're still in New York, right?" he asked, trying to ascertain his bearings. He seemed to be in a hospital room of some sort.

"Yes …"

"C.J.?"

Will stalled, unsure of how to answer him. Fortunately, Olivia and Marty entered the room, distracting them for a moment.

"Olivia!" he exclaimed, never more glad to see her.

"Oh, good. You're conscious."

"Where's C.J.? What happened to her?" he asked anxiously.

"Relax. She's down the hall getting checked out."

"Getting checked out? Last thing I remember ... I saw her go down! I ..."

"She had a vest on. She's fine."

"Oh thank God," he exhaled as he brought his hand to his head. "Ouch!"

Will couldn't help but notice Matt's reactiion.

"Man, whatever or whoever happened to your head, they sure packed a wallop."

Olivia and Marty smiled coyly, suppressing a laugh.

"What? Am I missing something? Inside joke?"

Olivia confessed. "It was C.J. who gave him the concussion."

Will shook his head. "Really? What a gal. Well I guess that's true love for ya."

Matt leered at him a moment before returning his eyes to Olivia.

"What happened out there? Did you get your girls? Are they safe?"

"Yes," she nodded emphatically.

"And Duval and his goons?

"Cuffed and shackled and facing over 20 different charges, ranging from kidnapping, to rape to attempted murder."

* * *

As Matt approached the room, he could hear C.J. talking with someone who sounded a lot like John. He remained in the hallway, listening to their conversation.

"So, this is it, isn't it? You're going to retire and ride off into the sunset with the cowboy?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Okay ... well ..." he stammered.

She touched his hand and smiled.

"If you're trying to say you're going to miss me, save it. I know you too well."

He smiled.

"Well, you know ... it's just that we've been through a lot together ... 30 years ..."

"I know."

"And ..." he started, fighting the uncomfortableness of the moment.

"And?" she prompted, searching his eyes for a hint or two.

"And ... sometimes ... do you ever think ... what might have been ... if ..."

"If?"

"If we hadn't lost ... ?"

"Yes, sometimes. But, it just wasn't meant to be. Coworkers, yes but ..."

"Lovers, no."

She smiled reflectively.

"Never good to mix business with pleasure."

It seemed to be a painful theme in her life.

Matt edged into the room in attempt to casually interrupt. He'd save his curiosity about her past for another time. For now, he just wanted to hold her.

"C.J.?"

She turned in his direction and immediately melted.

"Houston!" she exclaimed, running to embrace him.

John took his cue to leave without saying a word.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. You?" he asked as he pulled away enough to look her over.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head. "I don't know about you but I'm getting too old for this."

"Funny. I was just thinking the same thing."

"Well then I recommend retiring to a nice warm, sunny place ... " he said, resting his hands in hers. "Say, California?"

She smiled. "When can we leave?"

"How soon can you pack?"

Her smiled broadened, then in an instant it turned into a sympathetic frown, wrapped with genuine concern.

"Sorry about the concussion."

"It's okay," he said with an forgiving smile. "You did what you had to do."


End file.
